Heir to the Throne of Darkness
by xxaishiteru
Summary: Voldemort ensures his immortality through an heir. When he gets his hands on a prophecy, he uses Draco and Hermione to achieve his ends. DMHG HPGW RW?
1. Avada Kedavra

Disclaimer: you know the deal.

AN: end of the sixth year, not following the events in the book.

"My Lord, I am honored that you wish me to be in your service," a familiar blonde boy spoke in tones of reverence—and fear.

There was a long pause before the Dark Lord spoke. "Are you truly honored, Malfoy, or do you just wish to avoid death? I need to know that you are completely loyal and that you will follow my orders to the letter without question."

"I won't hide that I am fearful. You obviously could kill me for any mistake I make," Draco began. "But I do wish to serve you, Master. I promise to obey your word in any circumstance. My fears will not prevent me from carrying out your orders."

Voldemort stared into Malfoy's eyes, necessary for Leglilmency. "You will obey me in anything I tell you?" he questioned.

"Yes my Lord."

"What if I asked you to kill? Say, Harry Potter for instance."

"I would do it gladly sir."

"What if I told you to kill yourself?"

Draco replied unflinchingly, "That, too."

"What about your mother? Could you kill Narcissa?"

Draco's eyes widened in fear. The Dark Lord knew he was having trouble deciding. "I—I could do it, sir."

The Dark Lord's eyes gleamed red with a perverse pleasure. "Very well, then. Kill her."

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"Harry! Ron! Have you any idea what time it is?" Hermione shouted incredulously as she entered the Gryffindor common room. The two best friendslooked up guiltily at Hermione. After all, they _had _been playing wizard's chess for over three hours. "I'm guessing you two haven't even touched your trunks, much less packed anything."

Hermione had hit the bulls-eye. Harry threw an uncomfortable glance at Ron. The red-headed Gryffindor gave Hermione a sheepish smile. "We've seriously started thinking about it," Ron informed her.

"It's nine-thirty and we leave for the train station early tomorrow morning. If you can't manage your time and it's still the school year, I dread to imagine the deterioration that will occur over the summer."

"Come on, 'Mione," Harry said. "You'll be with us at the Burrow the whole summer. There's no way we'll be allowed to regress to bad habits like having fun," Harry teased.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not helping you pack, and I'm not going to wait for you tomorrow when you're late because you forgot to pack that picture of Lavender Brown you snog every night."

With that, Hermione left the room, heading to her dormitory to get some sleep.

"Oh all right," Ron said to Harry, who was red in the face at the last comment Hermione had made. "She's got a point. Let's go pack before we get too tired."

Harry muttered an incantation, and with a wave of his wand, the chess set put itself away.

"I've been wondering, Harry," Ron started as they climbed up the dormitory stairs. "Why aren't you going back to the Dursleys this summer? I mean, I'm all for you coming to visit us, but don't you need the protection?"

"I turn seventeen this summer, Ron. When that happens, I'm a legal adult, and the protection I get from going back to the Dursleys runs out. I don't see a point in being miserable for a few weeks just to get protection that will run out anyway."

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In the Slytherin dormitories, Blaise was banging on the door of Draco's room.

"Draco, let me in! _Bang_ You're not _Bang_ the only one _Bang_ who sleeps in there! _Bang_ OPEN _Bang_ THE _Bang_ BLOODY _Bang_ DOOR!"

The banging on the door fell on deaf ears. Draco had magically sealed the door so that nothing could pass through—not even sound. He lay on his bed, the green covers in disarray. His red, puffy eyes gave evidence to the tears that had been shed only moments ago. The door was sealed because he couldn't let anyone see him crying, especially since everything was his fault. He hadn't really meant for everything to go this far…

_Flashback—a few days ago_

_Draco cracked open the door to his mother's room to check if she had been sleeping. She hadn't been._

"_Draco, dear, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at school?" she had said, very much surprised._

"_I'd just been called by the Dark Lord; he needed me to do something for him. I had to sneak out...I just wanted to drop by before I went back to Hogwarts." He hadn't _really_ been lying…_

"_How sweet of my ickle Draco to visit me," she said, gathering her son into her arms. "How long do you have before you have to leave?" she asked._

"_I've got plenty of time… Why?"_

"_I don't feel safe tonight. I feel odd for some reason."_

_Draco responded calmly, "Of course, mum."_

_He watched as she climbed between the sheets and closed her eyes._

"_Goodnight, Draco," she murmured sleepily._

"_Good bye, Mother," he whispered when he saw her chest rise and fall slowly and regularly, knowing sleep had overcome her. "I love you."_

_Draco took a moment to compose himself for what he was going to do. The Avada Kadavra didn't work unless your heart was in it. He thought of his allegiance to Voldemort, his desire to stay alive, to gather power, to wipe out all the mudbloods and muggles…The Dark Lord must have had an important reason for his mother to be killed…She must die now._

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!" Draco screamed, as if possessed by the Dark Lord himself. The glowing green light flashed across her body, killing her instantly._

_After he had murdered his mother, Voldemort had apparated to his side._

"_You have proven your loyalty." He said in a pleased tone. "Imperio. Now extend your arm."_

_Malfoy obeyed mindlessly, and the Dark Mark was burned into his skin._

The curse had long worn off, and the image of his mother bathed in that sickening green light was burned into his memory just as the skull with a serpent tongue was burned onto his flesh. The image of his mother would not leave him, even as the lights went out in his dormitory. Draco would not fall asleep that night, for the second time in a row.


	2. Unexpected News

**Disclaimer:** "Okay, kids! What do I own?" xxaishiteru asked. "Nothing!" the children replied. One little kid added, "except for the plot."

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"No. Bloody. Way."

Hermione had just finished reading a small article in the lower right-hand corner of the Daily Prophet entitled "Death Eater's Son Kills Mother."

"What's that?" Ron asked, his mouth full of Pumpkin Pasties. They were in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, along with Harry and Ginny. Hermione pointed to the article while passing it over to Ron and Harry, who were sitting across from her.

"It says Draco's killed his mum." Hermione watched as their eyes scanned over the article.

"Draco was under Veritaserum for the investigation…. 'The Dark Lord made me,'…under the Imperious Curse…" Harry mumbled as he skimmed through.

"…and he is going to be under the care of…ARTHUR WEASLEY!" Ron exclaimed. "Do you mean he's…Draco…our house…" Ron was obviously having trouble grasping the fact that the group's most hated enemy (with the exception of Voldemort) was going to be staying at _his _house after _murdering _his own mother!

Ron mimicked Hermione by saying, "No. Bloody. Way."

Harry's face darkened with disappointment. It seemed that his summer was doomed to be unpleasant after all, although this time, instead of the Dursleys being rotten to him, it was going to be that pompous, blonde, Slytherin. Harry groaned at having to share the same living space with that evil, snivelling…well, you get the idea.

There _was_ one thing Harry was looking forward to this summer, and she was sitting right across from him. Her red hair glinted like copper in the sunlight streaming through the trains large windows, and her huge grin reached all the way to her eyes, which seemed to be looking at a far away scene.

Ginny Weasley was grinning madly at the thought of Draco coming to their house. Not because she enjoyed his company at all, but because she now had a new victim upon whom she could practice all the new hexes she'd learned…maybe even put into effect her most dastardly hex—polarivocce attractum. What it does, we can only wait to find out.

While Ginny had been secretly plotting and scheming, Ron had asked a very important question. "Why in the bloody hell is Malfoy staying with us? I mean, sure, there's no one to take care of him at Malfoy Manor now that his mum's dead, and his father's in Azkaban, but surely he has relatives, right?"

A cold, tired voice snapped back an answer. "Oh, right. Send me back to my Death Eater relatives so I can get 'Imperioed' and kill more people. That's absolutely _brilliant_, Weasel. I wonder why the Ministry didn't think of that?"

The sarcastic remark had come from Draco Malfoy, who had just stepped through the compartment door.

The four Gryffindors were almost as shocked that Draco was unaccompanied as the condition he was in. The normally impeccably dressed, well-groomed Slytherin looked untidy and dirty. His blonde hair went every which way, and his pale skin looked even paler with dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. The black Hogwarts robes he wore looked as if they had been slept in (which they had been). The only thing Malfoy seemed to have done concerning hygiene was brush his teeth.

"What happened to you?" Harry asked, staring.

Ron had not forgotten that Draco had made him look stupid yet again, so he added, "Yeah, you look like sh—"

"—like you need some rest," Hermione finished quickly. She did not want a fight on the first day of their summer vacation.

"Well, if you don't mind shoving over, Granger, I'd like to get said rest." He added in explanation, "Professor McGonagall said I had to stay in the same compartment as Weasel, over here, so I wouldn't get lost."

Of course, when McGonagall had said "get lost," she meant so Draco wouldn't purposely ditch Ron and Ginny and stay with some of his friends over the summer.

"So since I'm forced to be here, I might as well make things easier for everyone and sleep."

Draco then rudely crammed himself between Hermione and the wall after he had put his things in the overhead compartment. H couldn't sleep right away considering he could feel everyone staring at him. But soon the awkward silence that had followed his abrupt entrance gave way to light conversation, the soft voices lulling him to sleep.

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"Oh, children! How wonderful to see you all again. Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Harry." She exclaimed each one's name as she drew the child into a motherly hug.

"Welcome, Mr. Malfoy," Mrs Weasley said hesitantly, not knowiung how he would react.

She extended her hand as a warm gesture, but Draco ignored it and replied coldly, "Thank you, Mrs Weasley. Please show me to my room; I'd like to be alone at the moment." The truth was, he resented the four Gryffindors for having such a motherly figure in their lives when he had killed his mother, his only source of true kindness. He couldn't bear to touch a mother's hand just yet.

Mrs Weasley frowned and said, "Right this way, Mr. Malfoy," leading him down a very crooked hallway to a small room. "You can stay here, and the bathroom is right next door. I'll call you when dinner is ready, although if you smell it, you should probably just come right into the kitchen."

Draco walked into the smallest room he had ever seen in his life, aside from some doll houses that had belonged to his younger cousins. Even the closets at Malfoy Manor weren't _that_ small.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Draco muttered, sending his trunk floating over to the bed. He magically started to unpack all of his things, which only barely fit into the drawers and shelves in the room. Draco moved his trunk from the bed to the floor at the foot of the bed.

He fell upon the now vacant bed and sighed. The Dark Lord would be furious with him for getting caught, and almost landing in Azkaban.

'At least I was able to hold back under the veritaserum and only tell half-truths. It's a good thing the Dark Lord has been building up our resistance to the truth serum.' Draco thought. Resisting the truth serum had been surprisingly easy this time…but he had to arrange a meeting with the Dark Lord soon to explain things and ask for forgiveness. But what was there to explain? He had followed orders, but he had managed to botch up all he had going for him to get on Voldemort's good side.

He was always messing things up. His father had constantly reminded him of that anytime he had done anything marginally wrong. He didn't seem to be exceptionally good at anything either. He wasn't as good as Harry in Quidditch, he wasn't as good as Hermione with spells. Well, he was better at Defense Against the Dark Arts, but only because he knew many of the dark spells they were supposed to be fighting against.

And was being good at the Dark Arts a good thing? After all, he had killed his own mother. If that wasn't bad enough, she was a pureblood. What was Voldemort going at anyway?

'It's not like it matters though,' thought Draco. 'I'm already in this for the long haul. I can't kill my mother and start to regret it.'

After this thought had passed, The wonderful smell of soup wafted into his room. He suddenly realized how hungry he was after not eating or sleeping for days.

He got up to follow the smell to its source, but caught himself in the mirror hanging on the back of the door. His expression turned to one of horror. He looked…_ugly._

He quickly changed into cleaner robes and ran to the bathroom to was his face and brush his hair.

"There," he said, looking considerably improved in appearance. There was the Draco every one had come to know and love (er, hate). This one act had managed to return him to his normal self, with only tiny pangs of sorrow for his mother. (Why had he been so upset in the first place? Voldemort had a plan, didn't he?) Dracowas back to being an all-star prat. Of course, dying of starvation and running on no sleep didn't help his mood either.

Back on his quest to follow the smell, Draco found himself in the cramped kitchen. The smell of thick, creamy mushroom soup invaded Draco's senses. It was so wonderfully overpowering that he had to slump into an empty wooden chair by the table from the hunger pains he was feeling.

Fortunately, everyone was present at the table, since they had also smelled the food, and Mrs. Weasley had just finished cooking. That meant dinner was served very quickly. As soon as Mrs. Weasley had given the order to tuck in, Malfoy had practically pounced on his meal. He ate ravenously, struggling to at least give the impression of good manners.

Thankfully, the dinner was so good, the silence around the table was attributed to the amazing cooking, as opposed to the stranger eating alongside Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys.

When the cauldron of soup had been thoroughly emptied, Ron asked permission for the four friends to go to Diagon Alley to get some butterbeers and dessert. Molly agreed, but insisted they take Draco, "If it's all right with him."

Draco could have kissed Molly for that suggestion. 'This is the perfect time for me to sneak off to see the Dark Lord.

"I'd love to go. Let me just go get my, er, wallet." He ran down the hall to his room to get his invisibility cloak and a few galleons. Before he left his room, he strained as hard as he could to mentally reach Voldemort. He projected an image of a dirty-looking pub with the urgent message, "NOW."

'I hope he got the message,' Draco thought as he met up with the four of them by the fireplace. Each one went through one at a time via the Floo network. Each had shouted, "Diagon Alley!" before they went in, but as Draco approached the green flames, he said, "Knockturn Alley."

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Up next: Voldemort's punishment for Draco, and the Muggle carnival.

**AN:** Thanks to **Lady Elenwen**, my only reviewer. I'm doing this for me, not necessarily for the reviews, but I'd like to know if I'm doing a good job, so hit that button and write stuff!


	3. Voldemort Again

**Disclaimer:** I sadly don't own Draco…I wish I was a genius to come up with all of the world of Harry Potter, but that right is reserved for JK Rowling, who made Draco do some very interesting things in book 6. I made Draco do interesting things too…(see chapter one.)

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Draco was furious, but not as angry as the four faces in front of him.

"What did you do? We've been waiting here for at least twenty minutes!" Ginny yelled. Her fingers itched for her wand. Polarivocce attractum was so tempting to use…It would surely put Malfoy in his place. Fred and George had each given her their old wands, so she wasn't bound by the rule that said you couldn't do magic outside of school. Thank goodness the Ministry only recorded what wand had performed the magic, not the wizard who had done it.

"I inhaled floo powder and choked on it. I got lost." Draco's tone was one of infuriation. "Can't you leave me alone?"

Draco had actually been to see Voldemort. After reaching Knockturn Alley, he had gone into the dirty looking pub, grateful to see that The Dark Lord was there. Before Draco could explain anything, Voldemort had quickly and firmly grabbed Malfoy into a crushing embrace and apparated from the pub into a dark, dilapidated shack.

"Lumos." Voldemort pointed his wand to his face, making the pale, snake-like face look even uglier with the added shadows.

Voldemort's red eyes narrowed. "YOU ARE POSITIVELY STUPID, MALFOY! DON'T YOU REALIZE YOU ALMOST LANDED YOURSELF IN AZKABAN?"

Malfoy was seriously shaken. "But—"

"There are no 'buts,' Malfoy. I have very important plans for you, and you can't very well help me when your soul has been stolen by a dementor's kiss, now can you? And not only that, but now you've snuck off to see me, and they'll be looking for you. You just keep putting yourself in more and more danger of being caught, you _stupid_ git. Don't you realize that they might have removed you from the Weasley's care?"

Draco had finally caught his bearings and with foolhardy gall, proceeded to shout back at the Dark Lord. "Well I don't like the Weasley's anyway! They're all a bunch of blood traitors—"

"BLOOD TRAITORS WHO ARE CURRENTLY ALSO TAKING CARE OF _POTTER!_" Voldemort raged. "I need you to stay near them in case I need to get to Potter! You act like a child, Malfoy. If you weren't so important to my damn plans I'd have killed you by now. You deserve to be miserable with those rotten Weasleys." Voldemort stopped to pull something out of his robes.

"Incendio!" Sparks erupted from the wand and into a run-down fireplace, now only visible because of the flames that had ignited there. Voldemort had also flung some powder into the fire, yelled "Diagon Alley!" and shoved Malfoy into the green tongues of fire, but only after he had shouted, "Do not contact me _ever again_, except on pain of death; and as punishment, you may not contact any of your Slytherin friends either."

That was how Draco had ended up staring at four angry Gryffindors.

Ginny had decided against using the hex; it might have made things worse at the moment.

In an annoyed voice, Ron suggested that they "get going to the Three Broomsticks already, because I've waited long enough."

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All throughout the next week, Draco sulked in his room like a five-year-old having who wasn't getting their way.

"I hate the Dark Lord, I hate the Weasleys, I hate Potter, I hate Granger, I hate the stupid world." He continued to list more things he hated, varied with a few long strings of choice curse words. The only thing that kept him from exploding was the fact that he turned seventeen in three weeks. Then he would be a legal adult, and wouldn't have to stay under the care of the Weasleys.

"Just three more weeks," Draco said, "and pop go the Weasleys."

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Everyone in the Weasley home noticed Draco's surly behavior, but didn't mind it, since he ended up barricading himself in his room and stayed out of everybody's way. That is, everyone but Hermione.

Hermione found that Draco's sulkiness was almost worse than his insults. She didn't understand why it bothered her, but it didn't matter. All she knew was that she was walking to his room, and making him come out.

"Open the bloody door, Malfoy. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you died in there."

Draco would have ignored her, but he had actually been craving human company, even if it they would just end up yelling at each other and maybe drawing blood. He opened the door to a Hermione that was almost as ticked off as he was.

"May I come in?" she asked, eyes glittering with angry annoyance.

He drawled out, "Of course, mudblood," just to annoy her further.

"Don't call me that!"

"What did you come here for, Granger, you're getting on my nerves."

"I came here because you're getting on _my_ nerves. All you do is sulk in your room. Can't you at least come out and stop sulking for one day? I mean really. You're acting like a child."

Draco was reminded of Voldemort's words just then. _You act like a child, Malfoy. You deserve to be miserable with those rotten Weasleys._ He decided, that out of spite, he'd be as nice as possible to the muggle-lovers. 'Wouldn't Voldemort be so happy to hear that I'm going against everything he stands for?' Draco thought sarcastically.

"Well, okay, Granger. I'll come out. But it better be worth my while.

Suddenly the girl smiled. Draco didn't like that. It looked sinister, like she was plotting something that he would hate. 'She looks like a Slytherin,' he thought. 'Scary.'

"I know just the thing," she said, and then disappeared out the door.

"Well that was strange," the blonde boy muttered to himself.

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Later at dinner, Draco finally found out what Hermione had been planning.

"So," Arthur Weasley said cheerily, serving himself a generous portion of chicken. "What do you young witches and wizards have planned for the weekend?"

Hermione answered with a sly smile. "Well, you know, Mr. Weasley, I had noticed in a muggle newspaper I saw in the rubbish bin that there is going to be a muggle carnival this Saturday."

Mr. Weasley looked positively excited. "Really? Fascinating. What is a carnival?"

"It's a sort of festival—entertainment," Hermione attempted to explain. "There are a lot of fun games and rides."

"Erm, rides?"

"Yes. Basically you sit in a chair with a restraining device while the chair moves about. Usually it spins, or moves very fast. They're quite fun." Hermione took a sip of water. "I was wondering if I might go. I was wondering if we could _all_ go."

Draco couldn't be sure, but it seemed that Hermione had been looking directly at during that last part.

"Splendid idea! I can't wait to see how they manage to make everything work." Arthur was grinning madly, off in another world, imagining muggle things. (Now we know where Ginny picked that habit up from.)

Hermione winked at Draco. 'This can't be good.' Draco groaned mentally. He never should have agreed to venture out of his room…'Nothing fun is going to happen at a muggle festival.'

Draco didn't know how wrong he was. Of course, fun is all about your point of view…

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**AN: **Well, hoped you liked it. Thanks to **Malfoy-Jacky** and **jjp91**, my second and third reviewers.

**By the way…**There **is** a point to Narcissa getting killed. I promise. I didn't kill her off randomly.


	4. Polarivocce Attractum

**Disclaimer:** I own only the plot.

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Draco woke up the next morning. He groaned. 'Damn. I'm going to have to go to that muggle thingy. I'm actually going to have to associate with the blood-traitors and the mudblood.' He pushed away the covers and rolled out of bed.

At the breakfast table, there was excited chatter. Most of it was coming from Arthur, but that was beside the point.

Arthur was asking about rollercoasters. "So what did you say it does after it reaches the top?"

"Well, once it reaches the top, it can use gravity to pull it through the twists, turns, loops, and such till the friction stops it from moving anymore."

"How fascinating!"

This was when Draco had entered the room, also occupied by Harry, Ron, and Ginny. Mrs. Weasley was off doing laundry in another part of the house. Seeing everyone so excited to be going to a muggle event sickened Malfoy, and sent him deeper into his bad mood.

"Why is everyone smiling? It's only a muggle festival. It's not like it's going to be _fun_," Draco said in annoyance.

Ginny, sitting across from Draco at the breakfast table, had joined in Hermione's belief that Draco sulking was annoying. 'He might as well be sulking for a reason.' She smirked. 'I'll give him one.'

Under her breath, she muttered, "Polarivocce Attractum," and waved her wand under the table in Malfoy's general direction.

"What was that, Ginevra?" Malfoy sneered, and then smiled oddly. He looked confused about that last action.

The use of her full first name had touched a nerve in the youngest Weasley. Determined to get back at him, she asked Draco a seemingly innocent question:

"I know you don't like us, Malfoy, but tell me, exactly how much do you hate us? Feel free to use any type of language you wish."

Mr. Weasley's face reddened. "Now, Ginny! That's no way to speak to a guest—"

He would have finished reprimanding his daughter if an angry-looking Draco hadn't interrupted him.

"Well, you're right. I utterly loathe and detest all of you. It's a shame that a pure-blooded Wizarding family like you Weasleys have decided to mingle with the common mudbloods." Glancing at Hermione, Draco continued to speak without taking a breath, causing his face to get increasingly red. "Speaking of mudbloods, I can't find a worse one than Granger; she's constantly sucking up to the teachers and probably uses their favor to get Precious Potter and Weasel out of trouble. Not only that, but spending so much time doing her beloved homework, she neglects her appearance. Any average girl could have fixed her hair with a simple straightening charm."

Draco would have said more, but the effects of Ginny's hex had started to take effect. Draco went around the room hugging the Weasleys and "Precious Potter," but upon reaching Hermione, he took her head in his hands and kissed her passionately. While he was hugging the Weasleys, a look of shock had taken over his face. That was soon replaced by disgust after hugging Harry, but after a good long snog with Hermione, he looked horrified.

'What in the HELL am I doing!' he thought in exasperation. 'Why can't I bloody control myself? And…and…did I just put my mouth on Hermione's full, soft lips, and take her head full of soft, silky (yet bushy) hair into his hands? Wait. What the heck was I just thinking?

_What's WRONG with me!'_

Draco had actually said that last bit out loud.

All the while, Ginny had been smiling and laughing as if someone had hexed her with a ticking spell. Tears had actually rolled down her cheeks as Draco had been snogging Hermione.

Noticing this, an angry Mr. Weasley demanded in fervent tones, "Yes, what exactly _is_ wrong with Mr. Malfoy, Ginevra Molly Weasley?"

Ginny sobered up at once. She looked down at her lap. "I might have put a hex on him," she said, her face starting to look as red as her hair.

"What! You're almost worse than the twins! What did you do to him? He's our guest!" said an exasperated Arthur.

"Well, every time he says something bad about someone, he does something nice to them. The worse the things he says, the nicer the things he does. I suspect that's why Hermione got such a juicy kiss while the rest of us only got hugs."

"YOU CALL GETTING HUGGED BY MALFOY _NICE?_" erupted Ron.

"Quietus," Draco said, highly interested in what Ginny had to say. Ron looked positively livid. Now he couldn't yell anymore, and the more he tried, the more purple he got.

"Now how does it come off?" Draco inquired. He had underestimated that redheaded Gryffindor, and now he actually kind of admired her for such a brilliant spell. He'd have to find out what it was called later, so he could wreak havoc in the Slytherin dungeons, where nobody said anything nice.

"Well, I haven't actually come up with a counter-spell for it yet…"

"WHAT!" Draco fumed, not so much in the admiring mood anymore. "You little—" he suddenly cut himself off, remembering what would happen if he insulted the little Weasel brain.

Hermione piped in, "A simple 'finite incantantum' should do it. Finite Incantant—"

"Nooo!" Ginny had screamed.

"—um," Hermione finished. With that, Draco was magnetically pulled towards her and engulfed her in a big bear hug.

"Get off me, you git!" Hermione shouted, pushing Malfoy away with all her strength, finding he wouldn't budge.

"I can't, you stupid arse!" Draco returned, giving her a peck on the cheek as soon as he had said it.

"ARGH. Don't talk to me at all! Quietus."

Now Draco was in the same boat as Ron. Only Ron wasn't magically stuck to a girl who was angry with him. He was finishing his toast with a scowl plastered to his face.

"Now everyone calm down," Harry said. "We won't get anywhere by upsetting each other, now will we? Now, Ginny, are you sure you have no counter-spell for this?"

Ginny looked very embarrassed. "I was only kidding…"

Malfoy shot her an angry look, since he couldn't say anything. Hermione, who could, said, "Well get ON with it already!"

"Polarivocce Dispersio."

Hermione and Draco pulled apart, looking both embarrassed and infuriated.

"Finite incantantum." Draco's forced silence had lifted. Mr. Weasley repeated the process with Ron.

At that point, Mrs. Weasley walked in, oblivious to what had just happened. "I trust everyone's had a good morning?"

Everyone shot her an angry look, and left the kitchen.

"What did I do?" Mrs. Weasley asked herself, very much confused.

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**AN:** Thanks to all my lovely reviewers.

**Blueskyshymoon08:**yes, it was a bit depressing.

QueenTigress: oh yeah, can you just imagine Draco on a rollercoaster for the very first time? 

**PurplePanda**: I'm trying!

**Dragon**: yeah, I know, but there's some here. (Even though it's more like artificial snogging…) I promise there will be more later, once they warm up to each other.

**Gabbytheelf**: well thank you! I'm glad I have a few loyal readers already!

**Kimi-ga-warui-Tenshi**: thanks, and yeah, it was sad, but it does have a purpose.

**Malfoy-Jacky:** I know how hilarious that would be, so that's why I'm including it in the fic!

**Jjp91:** Yeah, I agree. He was just a teensy bit upset. And your understatements make me laugh….haha.


	5. The Muggle Carnival

**AN:** This chapter wasn't the best. But I felt like I needed to put something up before I went on a two week vacation in case I didn't have a chance to update. (Yeah, I know, I'm sorry.)

**Disclaimer:** I nly wn the plt. I'd like to buy a vowel.

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Seven wizards arrived at the flagged entrance to the carnival. They didn't look like wizards because they were wearing muggle clothes, but they didn't have that odd look that wizards trying to pass off as muggles had. This was all thanks to Harry and Hermione. Harry had lent the teenage boys some decent clothes (they weren't Dudley's hand-me-downs this time), Hermione had lent an outfit to Ginny, and Hermione's parents were gracious enough to lend Mr. and Mrs. Weasley some of theirs. All of the outfits were basic T-shirts and blue jeans except for Draco, who had gotten into the habit of either wearing an arm band around his arm or wearing long sleeves to hide the Dark Mark.

The group went over to the ticket booth to get wristbands. They were a bit more expensive than buying a pack of tickets, but would end up being a better deal since they were going to stay the whole day. Harry and Hermione paid, since they were the only two with muggle money, but everyone else had agreed to pay them back in wizarding money. Well, everyone except Draco, who thought it was a big waste of time.

Harry and Ginny had looked at each other mischievously as Hermione was buying the wristbands, all of them different colors. When the cashier had pushed them towards Hermione, about to give her change, Harry grabbed two, took Ginny by the hand and said, "We'll see you guys later!" as they ran towards the rides.

Ron, who looked upset shouted back, "You can't run off with my sister! Come back!" but by then they were long gone.

Upon seeing this, Draco whispered to Hermione, "Ron has some over-protectiveness issues, doesn't he?"

"That's the understatement of the year," Hermione responded laughingly. She turned to the Weasleys and handed out the wristbands. She had given Ron a pink one without realizing it.

Draco took the opportunity to make fun of him. "Why hello, ickle pink princess. Aren't you missing your tiara?"

Ron, who had already been upset over his best friend running off with his little sister (He could have _asked_) became even more so. His eyes narrowed and nostrils flared.

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Why does Ron get so worked up over the stupidest insults?' she mentally asked herself. She gave Mr. Weasley a look as if to say, "Restrain him, _please_."

Mr. Weasley put a firm hand on Ron's shoulders, signaling that he would get in a large amount of trouble if he so much as blinked in Malfoy's direction. Meanwhile, Molly asked Hermione if she could speak with her privately for a while.

Once they were out of earshot, Molly asked her, "Would you mind going around with Malfoy for a bit? I don't think anything good can come from Ron and him being within ten feet of each other. It would be much appreciated."

"Alright," Hermione responded.

"Thank you so much dear. I'll try to keep Arthur under control. I'm sure once he goes on a few rides, he'll get overexcited."

"If people stare at you weirdly, just tell everyone that you're from some communist country, and that you've never been to an amusement park. That'll probably get people off your back. Oh, and always remember to put the restraining devices on firmly; some of the rides can get crazy."

They walked back over to a fuming Ron, a smirking Draco, and a tired-looking Mr. Weasley.

"Mr. Malfoy, since you and Ron can't seem to get along, you are going to have to stay with Hermione for a while." Now speaking to both Draco and Hermione, Mrs. Weasley said, "We'll meet up around twelve at the food pavilion for lunch. Tell Harry and Ginny if you see them. See you two later."

"Have fun," Hermione said to the retreating figures of the Weasleys. They were headed towards a merry-go-round with looks of curiosity. "Well, Malfoy, it's just you and me. If you try anything funny, you are going to regret it." Hermione looked around. "Where do you want to go first?"

"Granger, I don't think you understand the term 'muggle hater.' It stands for a person who does not like to know, understand, remember, or care about anything having to do with muggles—"

"I thought that was part of the definition of 'ignorant,' "

Draco continued as if Hermione hadn't interrupted. "Therefore, I, a muggle hater, would not know or care where we started."

"Okay, I get your point, Hermione said. "Let's go on the swings!"

That was how Draco found himself on an undersized chair suspended from the overhang of a thick column via four chains surrounded by swarms of small, muggle children. His nose wrinkled in disgust. 'Leave it to Granger to pick the worst ride first.' Draco grumbled mentally. He attatched the latch from the chair to the metal bar in front of him, and soon the swings lifted off the ground and began to spin.

Hermione was enjoying the breeze that blew as the ride spun. She looked backwards to see a scowling Malfoy. She smiled. It made the ride that much better.

When the ride had stopped, Draco walked over to Hermione and said, "That was the stupidest thing I have ever experienced in my life."

"Fine, grumpy. You pick the next ride."

"Alright, how about…_that one_." Draco pointed to a ride that resembled a mallet with the handle pointing upwards.

"Okay."

They walked over, and luckily there was a small line. Up close the ride resembled a bus with no wheels sporting a door for every double seat. The front and the back had large, plexiglass windows and the sides had small windows that resembled the kind one will find on airplanes. The ride attendant opened the doors, which swung up vertically.

"Ladies first," Draco offered.

"Thanks." Hermione thought to herself, 'I guess he has manners after all.'

After climbing in, Hermione pulled down the safety harness. Draco did the same.

"You know, I usually don't go on rides that go upside down," Hermione said in an effort to have a conversation.

"Wait. This goes upside down?" Malfoy looked panicked.

"Duh. Why do you think there's a harness that goes over the top half of your body?"

"Um, I have to get off. Now."

"But they've already closed the doors, and look, the ride is starting to move! Don't worry, this isn't so bad, and it lasts less than two minutes."

Draco currently had a death grip on the handles located on the front of the harness. Hermione saw how white his knuckles were, and realized his phobia.

"You're afraid of going upside down?" She asked in disbelief. "But you're a Quidditch player. Don't you sometimes have to do weird stunts to avoid getting hit by bludgers?"

Draco could now beat Snow White in the "Who looks like a sheet of paper?" contest that exists solely in this fic. Part of the reason he was so visibly blanched was because they were now at a ninety degree angle to the ground. The other part was that Hermione had the means to blackmail him now. Maybe if he pretended he didn't hear her…

"Wow, Malfoy. Are you so scared you can't talk?"

Bad move.

"No, I just---AAAAAH!" Malfoy was now suspended upside down at the mercy of the harness and the strength of the roof of the "bus" in case the former wasn't so merciful. Draco hated the feeling of blood rushing to his head. It felt like any second his veins were going to burst. Then came an equally worse feeling: the weightlessness that came from falling. It tore at his nerves and conjured bad memories.

One time, at five years old, Draco had wandered into an unknown room in the Malfoy mansion. He had been about to pick up something particularly shiny from a large wooden desk when his father had glanced in while walking by. The shiny object Draco almost picked up was obviously very important and most likely fragile, dangerous, or both, because Lucius had shouted a levitating spell and hung Draco out the third story window upside down. Lucius kept Draco outside, dropping him and levitating him repeatedly while yelling at him never to touch anything wasn't his. On that day, Draco had acquired his fear.

When the ride had stopped, Draco felt weak and could barely climb out. Hermione quickly ushered him to a nearby bench.

"Are you alright?" She asked with genuine concern in her voice.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Just give me a minute."

'Damn, why did she have to see me like this? Malfoys are not supposed to show weakness or fear.' Right then, Draco resolved to cure his fear as quickly as possible.

He stood up shakily.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah. Didn't I already tell you?"

Hermione's eyes were doubtful and worried. They reminded him of his mother's eyes on the night she died. Draco paled again.

"Maybe I'm not okay yet."

"Just sit down for a while. I'll go get you some water. Stay here. I'll be right back."

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Ginny and Harry ran from the ticket booth

"We'll see you guys later!" Harry exclaimed.

'I thought we'd never get a chance to be alone,' Harry and Ginny thought at the same time.

You see, Harry and Ginny had been secretly going out for a few months. Harry didn't want Ginny to get hassled by those reporters from Witch Weekly or other such magazines, and Ginny didn't want Ron to be on her back every time she was going to spend time with Harry, so they decided that they should lay low for a while.

"So, what should we do first?" Ginny asked Harry. They had slowed down to a walk once they lost sight of the others.

"How about the rollercoaster over there?"

"Sure. I love going fast and dropping from far up. But no roller coaster can compare with riding fast on a broom."

"Shh, Ginny. We're not supposed to talk about…stuff."

"Oh, come on, Harry. Nobody's going to care. Let's just get over there before there's a long line."

They walked over to the line for the roller coaster, which, as fate would have it, was very long, and curved over near the merry-go-round.

Harry put his arm around Ginny's shoulders and gave her a light kiss on the forehead just as his best friend had been walking by with his parents. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had been curious about the merry-go-round, but Ron had been curious about a suspicious-looking couple a few yards away.

'That can't be…'

"…Harry?" said Ron.

Harry and Ginny turned around, and once they saw who it was, pulled apart as fast as they could. Ron was shocked. His best friend….his little sister…What was going on?

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**Blueskyshymoon08**: Thanks for the compliment. I tried hard to make it funny. I figured I needed some snogging since it's in the summary, but seeing as how Draco and Hermione hate each other, it had to be against their will.

**Anonymous (Alejandro…I know it's you)**: Thanks.

**XILOVE THE FERRETX**: thanks, that hex actually came to me during summer school.

**Londonmalfoy**: Don't we all wish we were Hermione? I mean, Draco's hot!

**Imissdumbledore**: I miss Dumbledore too, and thanks.

**Fallen angel (anon)**: thanks. I try hard to keep everything as realistic as possible.

**Guiltyuntilproveninnocent**: thank you for all your constructive comments. I realize the chapters aren't that long, but I'm leaving for NY today, and all the week before I was trying to get all my ideas out as fast as I could before I left…I'll try to update while I'm on vacation though. And thanks for saying that the people were "in character." Keeping characters true to the books is hard when you're trying to accomplish something that wouldn't really happen.

**Re-o-ko**: I'm glad you thought it was funny!

**Malfoy572**: Thanks. Yes, Ginny is certainly a piece of work.


	6. Truce?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own nothing. (It's double negative day!)

**A/N:** I'm back from vacation! I had a great time, and my cousins took me driving in their hay field…so awesome. **I apologize in advance for the extreme shortness of this chapter.** I have not written in a few weeks. I don't have time today to write more, so I figured I might as well get back on track and continue with the story before you all forget it exists. I will make up for it with a longer chapter later…I promise.

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"You conniving little…You…behind my back…Why didn't you tell me?" Ron shouted.

Harry jumped into an explanation right away. "Well, we wanted it to be a secret so that people wouldn't give Ginny a hard time. You know how those paparazzi get. You're right, though. We should have told you."

Ron started to recover from the shock. "It's not like I'm mad you two are together. I mean, if I had to pick anybody for Ginny, it'd be you, Harry. But why didn't you tell me?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Ron, do you know how scary you get when you're over-protective? You turn into this insane, paranoid freak. You're on my back all the time. It's not that I don't want you looking after me," She added so that Ron wouldn't be hurt, "I'm glad that you care, but I need to learn from my own mistakes. Not that I think Harry is going to be a mistake. Do you?"

Ron hesitated. "Well, no. Like I said before, if there was anyone I'd rather see you with, it would be Harry."

"So we have your blessing?" Harry asked.

Ron smiled. "Of course."

Ginny beamed at Ron. "Oh thank you! You're the best brother I could ever have!" she said while jumping on Ron with a huge hug.

When she had pulled away, Harry and Ron firmly shook hands. Harry said, "Thanks a lot, Ron. It means a lot to me."

Harry felt relieved. One of the major worries Harry had was that Ron, although his best friend, might not approve. He hadn't wanted his relationship with Ginny to affect his friendship with Ron, but now that he thought about it, there was a certain pull he felt towards Ginny that he realized would override the loyalties he had for his friends.

There was something about Ginny that was different from any other girl he had met. Cho Chang had certainly had an affect on him back in the day, but she was never up front about anything. He had always doubted her affection (was she still in love with Cedric?) and she had played games with him. Ginny on the other hand, was straightforward, sincere, and surprisingly skilled and strong as a witch. He knew that she could handle herself in dangerous situations—a desirable trait, considering Voldemort constantly sought him out, or vice versa. Not to mention, Ginny was turning into a beautiful young lady. He was content to know that there were no more obstacles that he could think of, and that their relationship would last for a long time to come.

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"Here. Drink this," Hermione said, offering Draco a plastic cup full of ice water.

"Thanks." Draco grudgingly accepted the water that the Hermione had given him. He felt uncomfortable that the muggle-born did something kind for him. He didn't know if she was being sincere or just getting him to lower his guard so she could get revenge on him for being an ass to her and her friends all those years at Hogwarts. He didn't trust anyone completely, much less a mudblood.

"Draco, why are you staring at me like I'm going to turn into a monster any second?"

"I am not," he protested.

"Yes you are."

"No."

"Yes!"

Draco hesitated. "It's just, you're being…_nice_. We're not exactly friends, you know."

"Is that all?" Hermione asked amusedly. "Well, there was this famous man. Do you know what he said? He said, 'Love your enemies…If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Love your enemies and your reward shall be great.' And if you think about it, it makes sense. It's only expected that you be nice to people who are nice to you. If you hate your enemies, maybe you're missing out on a friend. So, what do you say we call a truce? You don't be mean to us, and I won't be mean to you."

"Wait a minute. I have to be nice to all of you, but I'm only assured that one person will be nice back? That's not fair."

"Love your enemies, and your reward shall be great," Hermione said in a sing-song voice with a smile.

Draco thought about it. 'Voldemort did seem to want me to get close to Harry in case he needed to reach him…'

"Okay. Deal."

The two shook hands.

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The famous man was Jesus, and this quote is from Luke Chapter 6, verses 27, 32, 35 somewhat paraphrased.

**AN: **sorry again. That probably took five minutes to read. But I swear I'll keep on updating...don't hate me. **Thanks to all my reviewers!**


	7. Bumper Cars and Rollercoasters

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, this would be published already.

**AN:** **please read: **I didn't really mean for Hermione to be religious, just a really nice person. (I realize that not everyone on fanfiction is Christian, but that bible verse just came to me. I don't really plan on including religious stuff in this fic.)

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"So now that we've decided to be civil to each other, where do you propose we go next?" Draco said.

"Umm, let's see. What doesn't go upside down?"

"You better not tell anyone about that," Draco said with a murderous expression on his face.

"Come on, Malfoy. We're being nice to each other, remember? As much as we can stand, not just when we feel like it."

Draco was relieved, and surprised at her attitude. Promises meant nothing to him and his crowd. They were carelessly made in an effort to acquire some kind of favor, and only kept when convenient or under the chains of blackmail. That Hermione would keep a promise to someone who had been a real jerk to her and her friends was kind of amazing to him.

"Thanks, he said with real appreciation. 'I guess the mudblood has her good points.'

"You're welcome. I think the bumper cars are next on our list."

"The what?"

"The bumper cars. They're like miniature cars that you drive around to purposely crash into other people's cars. It's fun."

"Cars, like railroad cars?"

"Oh, that's right, you don't know what a car is." Hermione racked her brain to find a way to describe a car, but decided it would be easier to just show him. "Just come over here and I'll show you. But no, they aren't like railroad cars."

They walked past a few rides and a few game booths and soon reached the building that housed the bumper cars. The line was long, so they had to wait a while before going on the ride. In the meantime, Hermione explained everything about the ride.

"Okay. Those things are the cars," Hermione explained.

"What's that long pole coming out of the back of the car?"

"Oh, the whole thing runs on electricity, and that pole connects the car to the power source."

"What's electricity?"

"Well, electricity is like lightning. Well, lightning _is_ electricity."

Draco said incredulously, "There's no way this thing is powered by lightning."

"Yes way. Ever since Benjamin Franklin was around in the early 1800s, muggles knew how to control electricity without magic. Just because they can't use magic doesn't mean they are stupid."

Draco put a sour expression on his face. He didn't want to believe that muggles were capable of controlling such a powerful force as electricity.

"Anyways, you use the wheel to steer: clockwise for right, counterclockwise for left. There's a flat piece of metal on the floor that you hold down with your foot called the accelerator which you use to—well—accelerate."

Draco watched the chaos and noise that was bumper cars, and _liked_ it. The concept of violently crashing into muggles and making them jolt was appealing to Draco. Of course, there was the chance he would mess up his divinely gorgeous hair, but this opportunity seemed worth it.

At this point, Draco was grinning evilly at the bumper cars. Hermione looked slightly concerned. If he went on a mass-murdering spree, would it be her fault? After deciding it would be Mrs. Weasley's fault for letting her go around with a homicidal maniac, she relaxed, and let him run wildly toward a red car when the line started emptying out onto the concrete floor of the bumper car arena.

Draco seated himself, fastening his seatbelt tightly. He managed to fit his long legs into the child-sized car and hunched over the wheel, eyes sparkling and mouth emitting evil laughs under his breath.

'I've created a monster,' thought Hermione. 'Who'd have thought it would be a muggle amusement park that would send him over the edge?'

She strapped herself into the car, and heard the bell ring, signaling the start of the bumper cars session. She watched with an engrossed horror as the testosterone kicked in and Malfoy gained speed. He crashed into a poor little girl's car with such force, that the metal part of his pole that touched the ceiling folded over with a snap. The little girl drove away from the corner, traumatized. Draco was traumatized too—his bumper car no longer worked. How was he supposed to wreak havoc?

Hermione made her way over to the empty corner Draco was in. She parked next to him with some difficulty—bumper cars are a pain to steer—and at the risk of one of the ride attendants seeing them, asked him if he'd like to ride next to her, seeing as how "little girls in bumper cars can be dangerous."

Draco glared at her, and then quickly shoved himself into the driver's seat of Hermione's car displacing her rather painfully. She barely had time to fasten the seat belt again when Draco sped up and started crashing into anything that moved.

"Are you CRAZY? You're going to annihilate us!"

"What, poor Gryffindor is losing her bravery? There's less than two minutes left. Be a man," Draco winked.

And with that, Draco had once again brutally crashed into a group of six cars. Hermione spent the next two minutes getting jostled around painfully and muttering mild oaths.

When the ride stopped, Malfoy laughed. "That was wicked fun. Let's go on again!"

"Oh, no, we're not going on again. I've got a massive headache, no thanks to you," Hermione moaned. As they reached the outside of the bumper car area, She said, "You know, you're scary. No one should ever leave you alone inside a theme park. You'd cause substantial damage—like Godzilla."

"Wait a minute. The one muggle thing I ever remember seeing was Godzilla, and he's positively ugly. How dare you compare me and my dashing good looks to a hideous giant lizard?"

"Modest, aren't we? I only meant in terms of destruction. Although back there you looked like a crazed bumper car fiend. Not exactly attractive. Now let's stop and figure out what time it is. We're supposed to meet the Weasley's at noon."

Draco pulled out a black, expensive-looking pocket watch with an elaborate, unnecessarily shiny, engraved silver S on the front. "It's ten minutes till noon."

"Then I suggest we start walking over towards the food pavilion then. It's going to take at least ten minutes to find everyone."

Draco thought, 'How could someone _not_ find the Weasleys? They stand out like a sore thumb anywhere they go. A group of four or more red heads was hard to miss…There are the disgraces to Wizarding society now.'

Draco moved forward to meet up with them when Hermione said, "Where are you going?"

"Over towards the Weasleys. They're over there, you know."

"How did you find them so fast?"

"I have a gift, Granger, for being overly sensitive to people I dislike."

"Well, remember, you have to be nice to—Harry?" Hermione looked confusedly over to where Harry and Ginny were snogging, where Ron was looking a bit sick, and where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were standing oblivious to what the teenagers were doing. Hermione had often suspected their feelings towards one another, but hadn't expected _this._

Draco followed Hermione's gaze, and when they had reached the couple remarked, "Well, congratulations, Potter. It seems as if you've grown up and found yourself a nubile young Weasley. Pity that you won't get much of a dowry in exchange for marrying her."

Hermione poked him sharply in the side.

"Ow! What was that for? I was congratulating the Boy Who Snogged. If that's not being nice, then I don't know what is."

"That I can believe," Ron quipped.

"Weasley, aren't you supposed to be exploding over the fact that Wonder Boy here is permanently attached to your sister's face?"

"He asked my permission," Ron said defensively.

"Oh, he asked _permission_. If I ask permission, can I have a go at her then?"

"Malfoy, you little—"

Ron was interrupted by his parents, who had finally realized that everyone was together. "Let's go eat, shall we?" Molly said.

Draco smirked. Ron smoldered. Life was good for Draco. _Besides_the fact that he was stuck with the muggle lovers, the mudblood, and the moronic Potter.

"So, what is there to eat?" Malfoy asked.

"Well, there's pizza or hamburgers," replied Arthur.

"What's a hamburger?" Draco asked.

"That is a hamburger," Hermione said, pointing to a plate on the table near them.

"That's disgusting! It's coarse and undercooked, not to mention greasy. I'm not touching one of those. What's this pizza then?"

"It's basically round bread with tomato sauce, cheese, and some kind of meat or vegetable on top," Hermione explained.

"I'll go with that then. It can't be worse than that putrid gob of meat."

And he was right. As soon as Draco had taken a dainty nibble off of the tip of the slice of pepperoni pizza, he was won over. He ended up eating 6 slices, and only stopped when there were no more slices.

"You must be mad," said Harry. "You're not supposed to eat that much at an amusement park. You won't be able to go on a few rides for a good half hour at least, unless you want to get sick all over yourself."

Draco pondered this. He had a high metabolism; probably half of what he had eaten had probably digested already. "I'll take that chance."

Harry replied, "Well, we were all hoping to go on the roller coaster. Are you up for it?"

"Of course I am. I'm not a coward," Draco said, not even knowing what a roller coaster was.

"Alright then, let's head off towards the Destroyer of Worlds. I hope it's as thrilling the second time around."

Malfoy was taken aback by this violent name. 'I guess they aren't little coasters with wheels,' Malfoy thought, referring to the circular objects he usually set his teacups on. 'But seriously, how bad can it be, this roller coaster thingy?'

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Very bad, it turned out. Malfoy stood in line for the Destroyer of Worlds. His gaze fell upon the huge arch that rose into the sky and plummeted into a tangle of turns and loops. His eyes followed what looked like a sleek, miniature train that just began to glide down the track. Screaming ensued. This was not good. 'What kind of ride is this? And Hermione was upset after my driving of the bumper cars…'

"Are you alright, Malfoy? Your face looks unusually pale." Ron had made that comment.

Draco retorted with, "Is your hair on fire, Weasley? It's unusually red at the moment."

At this, Hermione sharply poked him again.

"Be nice!"

"OW! Granger!" Draco was about to yell at Hermione, but then paused. With his trademark smirk, Draco said, "I must be attractive when even the Gryffindor girls can't keep their hands off me."

Hermione rolled her eyes and moved up in the line. "Honestly Draco, he was only acting concerned, not insulting you. If anything, I think you're just panicked at the thought of going up so high without the safety net of magic."

'Curse the mudblood for being so damn perceptive.'

"And you're not?" He replied.

"Of course not."

"Then why don't you join me in the front seat?"

Not to be accused of backing down, she agreed.

The line gradually disappeared, and they were lucky enough to manage to all go on the same coaster. Draco forced himself to sit in the front seat, and he pulled down his harness forcefully, making sure that it was locked in a few notches too tight.

"You really are terrified, aren't you?" Hermione said.

"Bugger off, I'm trying to breathe here." Unfortunately, a lack of oxygen was the price he paid for locking the harness in tightly to feel safe.

"You really are vain and proud. You're terrified, and yet you sit in the front."

"A fair assessment. At least I look good."

Hermione laughed. "Famous last words."

The rollercoaster eased out of the boarding area and began its ascent. Draco watched as the people got smaller and smaller. Then suddenly came a rush of air and the feeling of vertigo as he plummeted seemingly straight down to the ground, Draco screaming hysterically all the while. The track curved horizontally at the last few possible meters, and Malfoy was pulled through a series of loops, sharp turns, and drops. Finally the rollercoaster glided to a stop, returning them to the place they had come from.

'All those twists and turns made me dizzy.' Draco exited the ride, followed by the rest of the gang.

"I don't feel so good…"

"You don't look so good," Ron said aptly.

"Oh, no." Hermione realized what was going to happen in the next minute. "Quick, the bathrooms are over around this corner," she said, dragging Draco behind her, only succeeding in further aggravating his nauseousness. "Oh dear…"

The bathrooms were out of order, and three port-a-potties had been offered in their stead. Hermione shoved Malfoy into one of them. The stench hit him full-on like a herd of stampeding rhinoceroses, which inevitably caused him to lose his lunch.

After a few minutes of retching, Draco began to feel a burning pain on his arm. He looked at it and realized it was coming from underneath his arm band, which he quickly removed. The Dark Mark was glowing white, and Malfoy knew exactly what he must do: seek out the Dark Lord at once.

Draco took out his watch, which was really a more elaborate version of the time-turner, and began to wind it backwards. He took care to mentally record what time it was when he began. 'I'll start off with an hour. I'll go more if I need it…' As soon as he stopped winding, he saw himself leave the port-a-potty, and then quickly, as if reality was being quickly rewinded, saw himself come back in, retch, saw other people come in to do their business, and then time suddenly slowed down again. Thankfully, he was alone. It would have gotten him in loads of trouble had he randomly appeared while someone was inside.

He cautiously left the port-a-potty, making sure no one he knew was there to recognize him. Then he went into the empty, out-of-order bathroom, and disapparated.

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**AN: **Hope you all enjoyed that! Thanks to all my reviewers!

**Next:** Voldemort sends Draco on a perilous mission to…Azkaban!


	8. Horcruxes and Souls

**AN:** I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

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While Draco had been disapparating, Voldemort had mentally sent him an image of Malfoy Manor, so that's where Draco went. He finally reappeared in the Great Room.

The Great Room was just as Draco remembered it: large and spacious with a full-size fireplace that could fit a good four people at once. The furniture was antique, yet surprisingly new-looking. The thing that Draco first noticed, however, was the thin layer of dust that had settled on everything. Draco supposed that this had to do with the fact that the house was empty. His mother was dead, and his father was in Azkaban. 'No one is around to make the house-elves clean,' He thought.

Draco's attention suddenly turned to the fireplace that had burst into green flames. Voldemort, in a hooded cloak, stepped forth. As he pulled off his hood, his eye caught a gleam of silver in Malfoy's hand.

"What is that?" asked Voldemort.

Draco realized he was still holding his time-traveling watch. "Oh, this is why I arrived an hour earlier. It lets you travel through time. Oh, and in an hour, you might want to activate the Dark Mark, or else I won't have come."

Ignoring Draco, he continued, "Where did you get that?" Now Voldemort had a curious look on his snakelike face.

"It's been in the family for ages."

"Boy, do you know what that is?"

Malfoy looked confused. "I thought I just told you what it was."

Voldemort looked annoyed, yet incredulous. "You fool, that belongs to Salazar Slytherin. It is said that only those directly descended from his line of ancestry are able to use it correctly. Do you realize what this means?"

"That this thing is worth more than I had originally thought?"

"NO! It means that you are descended from Slytherin, as am I."

"So we're…"

"Related, yes."

Draco was shocked. He was related to the Dark Lord. By direct bloodline, no less. He walked over to the couch and sat down. Hell, he was related to Salazar Slytherin, the original muggle-hater. This was almost too much. So much history, so many struggles still not fully realized rested in him. He looked at the pocket watch again. 'So the _S _stood for Slytherin.'

"Draco. The reason I called you here is because I have an important request to make of you."

"Yes, my lord?"

"I need you to break your father out of Azkaban."

Draco looked at his newfound relative in dismay. "Azkaban? Oh no problem. And then after I break my father out, we can go kill Dumbledore," he said sarcastically.

"That is the idea. With Dumbledore out of the way, killing the muggles and the mudbloods will be much simpler."

Draco's eyes widened. "But I was only kidding!"

"But I wasn't. Now, you obviously won't be breaking out your father today. I will send you instructions through post."

"Isn't that a bit dangerous? What if it is intercepted?"

"Draco, Draco. Do you really think I am stupid?"

"No, sir."

"The letter will be blank. In order to see what is written on it, you must perform the Imperious Curse, and demand that the letter show you what I have instructed. Then, when you are done, you may order it to go blank once more."

"Alright. I guess I'll be going then?"

"No. I actually have something else to discuss with you, since you are an heir of Slytherin." Voldemort conjured an old piece of parchment. "Read this."

Draco took the parchment and began to read the elaborate script.

_The Wizard's world will arm to fight_

_When two great enemies of old unite._

_Two enemies, and houses four,_

_Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Gryffindor._

_The battle will be short and quick_

_But won't be won by yew wand's flick._

_Darkness will die its darkest death_

_As darkness draws its infant breath._

_Beware to those who seek light's victory:_

_The triumph is not the first in history._

_Darkness harbored in goodness' womb_

_Allows the dark to evade the tomb._

Because he was reading the parchment facing the fire, the watermark inside the parchment showed through:

_Lord of Amacy's choice will determine the fate of darkness._

"Is this a prophecy?" asked Draco.

The Dark Lord replied, "Yes."

"What does it mean?"

"I'm not quite sure yet. I think I will lose if I fight Potter again, but I have a feeling that even though that Potter boy might kill me, with some intervention of 'Lord of Amacy,' he won't have seen the last of me. I don't see how he could kill me completely, not without tracking down all the horcruxes. Although he has gotten rid of one already. I blame your father for that. He doesn't deserve to come out of Azkaban."

"Erm, sorry, but what are horcruxes?"

"Oh yes. The Horcruxes. How much time do you have left?"

Draco checked his watch. "Thirty minutes."

"I suppose that will be enough time." Voldemort sat down next to Draco. "A horcrux is an object that holds a piece of one's soul. To make a horcrux, you must first kill someone, because killing is the supreme act of evil,or so they say, and rips the soul apart, and with a special spell, may place the piece of soul into an object. Usually the object chosen is of value, so that it won't be destroyed. The advantage of having a horcrux is that one may avoid death. With a piece of one's soul still existing in this world, one may eventually find a way to return to a corporal state."

"If you can cheat death, then why isn't it popular?"

"They say it is unnatural to split your soul, but I find the rewards are far too valuable to spend time worrying about the consequences. Besides, humans have two souls."

"Two? But I thought there was only one soul per person."

"No. That is false. One is your personal soul. The other is shared."

"Shared?"

"Yes. Killing, the supreme act of evil, splits the soul. Conversely, the supreme act of love binds your soul to another."

"And that is…?"

"The physical form of love. That is why Wizards take abstinence so seriously. They know that having their soul bound to another is a serious commitment. If a person is not faithful to their soul partner, the bond between the two souls is broken. Then, the souls will not be able to bond themselves to any other soul, and the people who those souls belong to will experience an intense emptiness for the rest of their natural lives.

"The other soul, of course, is for the next world. No one knows for certain what lies there, and some people give up their chance at the next world to become ghosts. I don't know why they would give up their soul. Souls are precious." Voldemort paused, leaving the room in silence.

When he finally did speak, it was to tell Draco that their hour was nearly up, and that he should be heading back.

"Don't forget what I told you about the soul," Voldemort said. "You can't afford to lose a perfectly good soul to someone you don't care about."

"Yes, lord," replied Draco, wondering what that look in Voldemort's eyes could be. "Remember to activate the Dark Mark when I leave, so that I will have come."

"Goodbye," said the Dark Lord.

"Goodbye." Draco pressed a button in a hidden area of the watch, and was transported ahead a few minutes in time, and miles away to the amusement park.

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**AN:** So did you enjoy it? Write a review and tell me. Thanks to all my loverly reviewers! You guys make writing so much more enjoyable.


	9. Learning the Patronus Charm

**AN: **Sorry I haven't updated in a week, but I had school in addition to some major writer's block. I know what's going to happen, but I didn't know how to get from chapter 8 to chapter 10. So here is the chapter nine where nothing too exciting happens, but is necessary to get where I want to go.

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The Weasleys and company arrived home tired but very happy. Even Draco was somewhat happy, but that was because of his visit with Voldemort, who was no longer mad at him.

After Draco had returned without anyone knowing he had gone, the entire group roamed the carnival in search of the best rides. Ron tried his hand at the ring toss, and through either unintentional magic or skill, he managed to win a great big stuffed dragon that he blushingly gave to Hermione. He had said that Ginny preferred unicorns and didn't want it, but Draco saw through that lie. Hermione seemed to be oblivious to Ron's intentions, which amused Draco.

They had spent the rest of the afternoon there, returning home a little before suppertime. Molly made a quick dinner, and they all sat down to eat. In contrast to the first meal they had shared together that summer, this time there was much more conversation.

"And do you remember that teacup ride?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, I was dizzy for five minutes afterwards," Ginny replied.

Ron said, "Dizzy? I think that wins the understatement of the year award. You couldn't even walk in a straight line!"

"Well, I'm not the only one who couldn't handle a ride," she quipped. "Don't forget, Draco had his own problems with the roller coaster."

Mercury eyes flashed at this comment. Authur looked alarmed. He knew Draco was a proud boy, and easily offended (like a hippogriff, actually); and the last time Ginny had said something like that to Draco, there had been a hex involved. He had every right to be nervous as Draco was struggling not to lash out with a comeback.

Hermione watched intently as Draco managed a forced smile and said, "That's not fair, I had eaten about half a pizza right before that ride. _Anyone_ would have rushed to the nearest lavatory."

Arthur looked relieved that a confrontation had been avoided, and Hermione was content to see that Draco was keeping his end of the deal. Part of the reason Draco didn't lash out was that he and the Dark Lord were on good terms again. This favor he had asked of Draco would give him a chance to prove his usefulness to the Dark Lord. 'Not like I'm going to be able to do it.'

Draco remembered the dementors that had visited Hogwarts their third year when Black was on the loose. He had made fun of Harry for passing out anytime a dementor was near, but the truth was that Draco didn't think he could take on one dementor, let alone the hundreds that were bound to be in Azkaban. Voldemort must have been crazy to give Draco this assignment. He was almost of age, to be sure, but to send a boy to retrieve a Death Eater from Azkaban was so dangerous it practically ensured that Draco would be insane by the end of the three weeks.

Everyone at the table had soon gotten over the fact that Malfoy had refrained from causing a scene, and were now jovially conversing. Only Hermione noticed Draco frowning, deep in thought. 'What could he possibly be thinking about?'

A sharp rap at the window caught everyone's attention. An eagle-owl sat perched outside of the window with a regal air, silently demanding to be let in. Draco got up immediately and opened the window. He let the owl in, noticing a blank scroll of parchment attached to its leg.

"It's my owl, Hermes. Do you mind if I take him to my room?" Draco asked.

Mrs. Weasley, who ordinarily didn't permit anyone to get up from the table during dinner for any reason let Draco take his owl to his quarters. Once in the privacy of his own room, Draco took the parchment from the owl's leg. He was about to perform the Imperious Curse when he realized it was summer, and he was not yet seventeen, and therefore not allowed to use magic. He desperately wanted to read the instructions Voldemort had left for him but couldn't imagine the Ministry of Magic letting him off for performing an illegal curse, especially after committing murder.

Then a thought struck him. Ginny Weasley had been able to hex him without any consequences, and she most _definitely _was not allowed to use magic during the summer. 'How did she do it?' Draco thought to himself. 'It probably comes from being the daughter of a ministry official.' But then Draco realized that couldn't possibly be, since his own father had as much power (or more) as Mr. Weasly in the ministry. Draco vowed to learn her secret so that he could carry out Voldemort's orders. For now, though, Draco rejoined the happy Gryffindors at the dinner table.

---------------------------

Draco got his chance to question Ginny the next day when Arthur had left for work and Molly had gone to buy groceries for the week. The children had been under strict orders not to answer the door and to block the fireplace, because Death Eater attacks had been becoming more and more frequent. Ironically, they were hosting one in their house.

Draco the Death Eater had followed Ginny into her room. His sudden presence startled her when she had turned around to close the door behind her. After the surprise had faded from her face, her eyes narrowed.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she spat.

"I want to know how you managed to hex me without getting in trouble. I _know_ you're not seventeen."

Ginny scowled. "Why would I tell you?"

"Because, "Draco threatened, "If you don't, I'll have to report your little hex to the ministry. Your friends were all there to witness it, and I doubt they'd lie for you in court."

Ginny realized there was some truth to what Draco had said, but didn't want to reveal her secret to Draco so easily. Gryffindors were certainly made of stronger stuff. "Do you honestly think I'll just back down and tell you because of an empty threat? Honestly. You underestimate me, and you overestimate the ministry's reaction. They won't care that some sixth year student played a joke on the son of a Malfoy. Remember, your daddy doesn't have any control over them anymore. I doubt he even has control over his own mind anymore. Not after a year in Azkaban."

Draco fumed inwardly. How dare she speak about his father that way? He longed to thrash her once and for all to teach her a lesson, but it wasn't gentlemanly and it wouldn't help him get any information out of her. He definitely couldn't allow her to have the satisfaction of getting a rise out of him.

So, as calmly as possible, he said, "Believe what you will. Even if the ministry doesn't care, things will still turn out badly for you. I'll take the whole matter to a friend of mine: Rita Skeeter. Imagine all the wonderful stories that acid green quill of hers would write. There's a story about corruption at the ministry spotlighting your father just waiting to be written. Or even better, the headline 'Harry Potter's Girlfriend: Above the Law?' " Draco's eyes shone like mercury with smug satisfaction. "If you really want to drag your family and your boyfriend into this, feel free to keep what I want to know a secret."

Ginny frowned. She did not like having someone forcing her to do something, but considering the circumstances, she decided it would be wise not to provoke the wrath of the Amazing Bouncing Ferret. She grudgingly moved over to her closet and took out a long, thin box. "If you mention this to anyone, I've been working on some particularly nasty hexes designed especially for pompous, blonde Slytherins." She opened the box to reveal two slightly battered wands. "These belonged to my brothers, Fred and George. They gave them to me after they had bought new ones with the money from their joke shop."

Draco looked at Ginny with a disbelieving smirk. "So the reason the Ministry doesn't take you in for questioning is because you're not using your own wand. Genius."

At this unintentional comment from Draco, Ginny smiled.

"I need to borrow one," Draco said. "Just for a little while."

"What's in it for me?" Ginny asked.

"Other than me not contacting Rita Skeeter right now? I'll give you a galleon to use it for an hour."

Ginny seemed satisfied. "You give me the money, and I'll lend you the wand."

Draco searched his pockets and found a large, gold coin which he handed to Ginny.

"I'll lend you the oak one. I prefer the willow. They both have a core of Dragon heartstrings and are the same size, so other than the wood and movement, they're very similar."

"Well, your brothers were twins after all. It's to be expected." Noticing Ginny's apprehensive gaze on the wand he held, he assured her, "Don't worry; I'm not going to break it." Then he stuck the wand under his shirt and left to go to his room.

Once there, he locked the door behind him. He found the parchment, unrolled it, and muttered the imperious curse under his breath. Surprisingly, it had worked relatively well. It seemed that having a different wand didn't affect his spellwork too drastically. He then commanded the parchment to show Voldemort's instructions. Slowly, sharp, spidery writing appeared on the page as trails of ink leeched out from the center. The letter began abruptly and without a greeting:

_You must bring your father to me. I would like to see him by the third week of July. Whether he has all of his mental faculties or not, bring him. You may do this with any method you choose, so long as you do not get caught. Do not disappoint me. When you have him, leave him at Malfoy Manor. Feed him and yourself chocolate._

_Crucial to your success will be the ability to effectively produce a patronus. The Patronus is a defense against dementors. To produce one, you must first think of a happy memory. Allow the memory to fill your thoughts. Then say, "Expecto Patronum." Your wand should then emit a silvery form. Make sure you master this spell before attempting to collect your father. If you do not, you risk not only failure, but your sanity as well._

_Other than facing the dementors, your should have no other obstacles. The ministry recently banned the posting of human guards at Azkaban after the dementors began feeding on their emotions. One man lost his soul, so no one goes there except to drop food off for the prisoners once a week. I do not suggest you visit on a Wednesday. Stock up on chocolate._

The letter ended as abruptly as it started. Draco flipped the parchment to the other side where he saw directions to Azkaban. He quickly reread the instructions for producing a Patronus, and then ordered the Parchment to go blank once more.

Draco had fifty minutes before he had to return the wand to Ginny, so he decided he would try to produce a Patronus.

"So let's see, a happy memory…what should I pick?" Draco said to himself. He searched through memories until he remembered the time when he had made those "Potter Stinks" badges in his fourth year at Hogwarts. "Those were genius, if I do say so myself." He smiled as he recalled the faces on all the Gryffindors. "Self-righteous lot of do-gooders. They were pretty upset that practically the whole school was wearing them."

He let the happiness wash over him for a few minutes, and then said, "Expecto Patronum!"

He had expected his Patronus to assume a corporeal form, like the one Potter had hit him with when he, Crabbe and Goyle had dressed up like a dementor at the Ravenclaw vs. Gryffindor game in their third year. Instead, a faint cloud of silver vapor the size of a grapefruit came out and quickly disappeared.

Frustrated at his lousy first attempt, he tried again. "Expecto Patronum!" he shouted. However, this time an even smaller cloud appeared.

Discontented and angry that he was not able to do something "Hairy Pothead" had done, he threw a nearby book at the wall and slumped on the bed. Hermione, having heard the loud noise coming from Malfoy's room, poked her head through the door.

"Try not to destroy the house, okay?" she said. Upon seeing the book that had been thrown across the room, and that was now lying open, face down on the floor, she rushed in to check the damage. "Malfoy, this is a _textbook_!" She gave him a disgusted look. "The pages are bent, and the spine is beginning to crack. You should have more respect for your things. What made you throw a book across the room? And is that a wand in your hand?"

Now feeling a bit embarrassed to have acted childishly and to have let Granger see the wand Ginny had expressly told him not to show anyone, he turned pink. He admitted, "The stupid spell wouldn't work."

"But you're not allowed to do magic. You're not seventeen, are you?"

"So I borrowed someone's wand. Big deal."

"Well, I could help you, if you want. I've already started looking over next year's curriculum."

Draco's pride screamed for him to decline a mudblood's help, but fear that he would not be able to effectively master the spell by himself made him accept.

"Fine."

"Alright, what spell are you working on?" Hermione asked.

"The Patronus spell."

"Okay, I know how to do that." She took the wand from Draco and began to explain. "First, you think of a happy memory. But it has to be an especially good one, or else the dementor might drown out the happy one with awful memories." Hermione frowned. "Why do you need to learn this anyway?"

Draco's face remained emotionless. "The reason is none of your business. Why do you need to know the Patronus Charm?"

"Okay, fine." Hermione gave up questioning and returned to her explanation. "Once you have the memory firmly in your mind, you say—"

"Expecto Patronum, I know," Draco interrupted.

"Are you going to let me explain or not?" Hermione asked in annoyance.

"Okay, just show me yours then."

"Alright." Hermione furrowed her brow in concentration, and after a few moments, said, "Expecto Patronum!" and a silvery otter issued forth from her wand. "Now you try, Draco."

Draco took the wand, and again thought of the "Potter Stinks" badges, smirked, and said, "Expecto Patronum." Again, his wand only emitted a small gaseous cloud.

"See, it doesn't work!" he said, extremely irked.

"Well, what memory did you use?"

Draco hesitated to tell her. He didn't want her to get upset and leave without helping him, but decided to tell the truth anyway. "Remember those 'Potter Stinks' badges? I was thinking of the time I made those."

Hermione frowned again, and said, "Well no wonder it didn't work. The memory has to be something that makes you truly happy. Vengeance should not be in your happy memory. Pick something else."

Draco thought for a moment. 'Do I actually have any happy memories that do not involve me making fun of someone?' Draco racked his brains for a memory. As he went through them, he panicked. Every single memory he thought of didn't seem happy enough or included him having fun at someone else's expense. Finally, he found a memory that might work. He let it consume his thoughts, and then said the magic words.

This time, instead of a faint silver cloud, a large silvery mist streamed from the wand. It did not have a corporeal form, but it was by far better than anything he had produced so far. Draco was pleased to see that his Patronus had improved, but he was a little disconcerted that the memory he had chosen had worked. It went against most of his principles as a Slytherin and a Death Eater.

"That was much better," Hermione praised. "What memory did you choose?"

Draco turned pink again. "The day we went to the carnival."

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**AN:** So Draco is starting to change a little. He's slowly learning to accept (or at least tolerate) the group of Gryffindors he normally would hate. **I promise that next chapter will be much more exciting. He goes to Azkaban!**

**Thanks to all my reviewers! You are all so patient with me…I appreciate you all.**


	10. WTF?

**AN:** So why can't Voldemort just call off the dementors and get Lucius himself? Because it's too damn easy. And plus, Voldemort has to build up his little follower into a warrior. (We all know Malfoy is a bit of a coward. Don't deny it!) Oh, and this chapter is dedicated to **princessdza** and **jjp91** for bringing up good points.

The reason I didn't update was because my internet was disconnected during the weekend. I'm going to probably update only on the weekends because of school. Sorry.

**Disclaimer:** I think I forgot to put this in the last few chapters. Oops. Well, you know the deal. I don't own anything. **This chapter contains s-bombs and f-bombs, but not too many.**

**Complaining:** I hate that we can't use songs. Urgh. This is going to make later chapters harder…..

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"_That was much better," Hermione praised. "What memory did you choose?"_

_Draco turned pink again. "The day we went to the carnival."_

------------------------------

Hermione was taken aback at this revelation. _That_ memory had improved his Patronus? The day she had dragged him to a muggle event where he had encountered his fear of heights/falling and where he had thrown up? Surely he had happier moments in his life than that… She voiced her disbelief with the statement, "You must be either ill, delirious, or lying."

Draco's embarrassment turned to anger. Here he was, being nice, and telling the truth for once and Granger called him a liar. "Do you think I really wanted that memory to work, Granger? Don't you think it would have been easier for me to lie and say I thought about Voldemort killing each and every one of you annoying little Gryffindors?"

"Well, sorry," Hermione said a bit roughly. "It's not like you to admit that spending time with 'blood-traitors' or—" Hermione hesitated, but then continued, "—_mudbloods_ was a happy moment for you."

Draco stared at Hermione. "You make no sense. First you ask that I be nice, so I tell you the truth, and then you disregard it. It's not like I'm not having a hard time keeping with the damn agreement. You're not even following it sometimes. And as for acting unlike myself, who are you to talk? You, who follow the rulebook religiously, are helping a Slytherin (A Slytherin!) perform illegal underage magic. If that's not completely unlike _you_, then I'll send my house elves on a month-long vacation."

"Well forgive me for trying to help out—"

"You didn't seem to appreciate _me_ trying to help out by telling the truth," Malfoy interrupted.

Hermione continued with rising frustration, "—I could have told Ginny that you stole her wand, but instead I chose to help you with an extremely difficult charm."

"I DIDN'T STEAL IT! She _lent_ it to me. I swear, you talk about me being prejudiced, but you are equally so. You don't care that Ginny has her brothers' wands and that she's using magic illegally to hex me, but I'm trying to learn something useful here, and you think I'm up to no good." Draco ignored the fact that he _was_ up to no good.

Hermione realized he was making a good point. The same way he categorized anyone less than pureblooded as beneath him, she had categorized him as an evil Slytherin without thinking. To be honest, he had been nasty to her in the past, but right here, right now, he hadn't done anything wrong by her.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Draco. You're right."

He had been ready for her to curse at him or physically attack him, but instead she had apologized. For that he had been totally unprepared. How was he supposed to receive an apology from one of his enemies? His father would have told him to either ignore it or accept it with a biting remark. He did neither.

"Thank you, Granger."

Hermione was as surprised by this remark as Draco had been by her apology. "You're welcome."

After a minute or so of silence, Hermione finally spoke again. "So you don't have any other suitable memories that might work? Your Patronus is still a bit weak."

"Not that I can think of."

"What about you and Pansy Parkinson? I'm sure you have some, er, good memories of her."

Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Are you kidding? Pansy is such a cow. I only put up with her because it keeps all the other girls away. She acts all lovey-dovey, but it bugs the hell out of me. She's an idiot—no brain at all. Our conversations go like this:

" 'Draco,' " Draco said in a falsetto. " 'You were so good in quidditch today,'

'I lost.'

'So, I still think you're wonderful.'

'I hate you.'

'Silly, I know you love me. You're just testing my affections.' Muah."

"Erm, alright then. So no memories at all? What kind of childhood did you _have_?"

Draco glared. "None of your business."

At that moment, Ginny walked through the door. "Your hour is up." Ginny noticed Hermione. "I thought I told you not to let anyone see."

"Well, she just walked in on me. She knew anyway, so it's not like it matters. She even accused me of stealing it."

Ginny stared blankly at Draco. "Right." Then she took the wand and left. Hermione followed.

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The week passed by almost uneventfully. Draco continued to rent the wand from Ginny, and failed miserably in trying to improve his Patronus. The only reason the week was _almost_ uneventful was because Draco received a howler.

A tawny owl with yellow eyes flew in the window carrying a red envelope at lunchtime near the end of the week. The owl landed on the table next to Draco, and he reluctantly took the envelope and opened it.

"HOW DARE YOU NOT WRITE TO ME? YOU PROMISED ME, DRACO! I WAITED BY THAT WINDOW FOR _DAYS_." Pansy Parkinson's voice faltered. "YOU DON'T LOVE ME ANYMORE! I DIDN'T THINK YOU MEANT IT ALL THOSE TIMES, BUT YOU DID, DIDN'T YOU?" Now she sounded as though she was about to cry. "OH, DRAKIE-KINS, MY LITTLE BUMBLE-BEAR, PLEASE WRITE TO ME. I MISS YOU EVER-SO MUCH. YOU'RE ALWAYS SPENDING TIME WITH—WITH, (sniffle) WELL, YOU KNOW WHO. WHY DON'T YOU VISIT ME? YOU HAD BETTER WRITE TO ME NOW, BECAUSE I'VE ORDERED CALYPSO TO PECK YOU UNTIL YOU DO. LOVE, YOUR DARLING PANSY-POO."

After the howler had finished, everyone looked at Draco, who was turning redder by the second. Part of it was from embarrassment, and part was from rage. Draco's thoughts wandered from 'Shit. She called me bumble-bear in from of my worst enemies,' to 'Pansy must die.'

Everyone at the table had smiles of amusement and curiosity except Hermione, whose brow was furrowed in deep thought. She wondered if Pansy had been referring to another girl or Voldemort when she had said "you know who." While both were plausible, she worried that Pansy had meant the latter. Harry and Ron had always accused Draco of being a Death Eater, but she hadn't really believed it. She always considered him too much of a coward to actually join up with Voldemort. But now something was nagging at her mind saying that something was not quite cricket with Draco. She felt as she often did when faced with a particularly difficult homework question. She had a feeling that she knew the answer, and that somewhere was the evidence to support her answer, but she couldn't quite find it. She resolved to keep a close eye on Draco in the future.

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"Expecto Patronum!"

Draco had, for what seemed like the millionth time, produced a less-than-satisfactory Patronus. It had already been a full week since Draco had received his instructions from Voldemort, and the quality of his Patronus had plateaued. Frustrated, he decided to ask Hermione for help, as much as it pained him to be asking a mudblood for help.

Hermione agreed to help him, but they didn't make any more progress. However, Draco noticed that she kept on giving him a funny look, and she stared at his arm repeatedly. He naturally thought it was weird, but didn't really think anything of it.

Hermione, on the other hand, kept noticing things that should have been obvious to her. Firstly, Draco had been wearing a wristband on his arm all summer. Those weren't exactly in style. Secondly, she knew Draco was perfectly capable of using the Floo network, so why had he "gotten lost"? Thirdly, he was trying to learn the Patronus Charm for apparently no reason. The charm was a protection against dementors, and they were all at Azkaban. Lucius was in Azkaban. These seemed like completely unrelated pieces of information, but they all seemed to be connected. Hermione kept telling herself that Draco couldn't have been hiding the dark mark under his sleeve, that everybody made mistakes once in a while, and that maybe Draco just shared her thirst for knowledge and just wanted to know how to produce a Patronus in case it turned up on their Defense Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T.

Even though Hermione had tried to convince herself that Draco was not a Death Eater, she found herself outside his room at midnight, trying to discern whether or not he was asleep or not. When she was satisfied that he was unconscious, she opened the door a crack. She listened for the steady breathing, and then stepped into the room. Slowly creeping over to where he slept, she managed to free his right arm from the covers. She rolled up his sleeve, but found nothing but pale, milky skin. No dark mark. She reached over to his left arm, but before she could lift the sleeve, Draco began to stir.

Panicked, she let go of the arm and turned to leave, but Draco was now awake.

"Hermione? What are you doing here?" he said a bit groggily.

Hermione, out of desperation, did the only thing she could think of. She kissed him.

Draco's eyes widened. "What the fuck?"

Hermione scrambled to give him an alibi for why she was in his room at that hour. "Draco, I don't know how to tell you this, but I like you." She struggled not to give in to her gag reflex.

Draco stared disbelievingly. "Taken too many tipsy toffees, haven't we?"

Hermione started to become nervous. He didn't believe her. While under normal circumstances that would have been desirable, right now she really needed him to believe that was why she was in his room. "You don't believe me?" she asked in what she hoped was a disappointed tone.

"You're serious?"

"Of course."

"Granger," Draco began, talking to her as if she was a small child. "I know I'm a sexy beast, but I am a _pureblooded_ sexy beast, and you're just a mudblood beast. I do not have feelings for you, and never will. So go to bed."

She readily accepted the invitation to leave. Once she had scrambled out of the room, Draco smirked. "Granger can be pretty dense for being such a know-it-all, but at least she has good taste."

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. **AN: **So I lied. He didn't go to Azkaban. But he does next chapter, I SWEAR on the life of "drakie-kins/bumble-bear." I have it planned out, but I just have to write it. and write it WELL. Please review.


	11. Pumpernickel

**AN:** Sorry this came out so late. I was keeping my friend company on her birthday! (along with much writer's block. I over-planned this chapter, and so the words wouldn't flow…)

**Disclaimer:** . Fill in the blank. If you don't know what goes there, then don't post fan fiction on the web.

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The next day, Draco woke up in a strangely good mood. At breakfast, He smiled at Harry and Ron, who stared back stupidly. When Hermione walked in, he had to resist laughing. As soon as she saw him, she seemed to remember the events of the night before, and then put her hand up to her forehead as if she had a headache coming on. She internally debated whether to have breakfast or to avoid Draco. She chose the latter, and he smirked as she left the room.

Draco found a strange pride in being able to unconsciously win the affections of someone who had despised him for years, even if she was a mudblood. He thought, 'Ron is blatantly obvious in trying to gain her affections and she's oblivious to it, but I act like an ass to her and she sneaks into my room at night to confess her undying love. If that's not talent, I don't know what is.'

After finishing breakfast and getting dressed, Draco decided to practice his Patronus yet again.

"Ginny, wake up," Draco ordered. Ginny stayed asleep. "Ginny," he said as he prodded her shoulder. "GINNY!"

"What?" Ginny said groggily. "Leave me alone, ferret."

"I need the wand."

"Bring it here." Draco brought the box with the wands in it to Ginny, who was on the verge of falling asleep again.

"Here they are."

Ginny took both wands, and with the willow wand, she muttered a spell over the oak wand. "That spell will return the wand to this room by noon. Just make sure you let go of the wand before it drags you along. I've charmed it to be able to go through walls, but I don't know how well you'll travel through them."

"How much do I pay you?"

"Just LEAVE!"

And so he did. He locked himself in his room and began practicing his Patronus. His good mood showed up in his work, because as soon as Draco muttered the words "Expecto Patronum," a silver-scaled snake slithered from his wand. Draco stared at the snake in amazement.

"I did it," he said in awe. "I diiiid it I diiiid it!" he sang as he danced his little victory dance.

He was so happy that he finally produced a patronus that each successive patronus he produced became a brighter silver than the last. It was when he produced an especially bright patronus that he realized that the best time to go to Azkaban would be while his Patronus was at its best.

He rushed over to his trunk to retrieve the parchment that contained the instructions for how to get to Azkaban. Once he had performed the curse to make the parchment legible, he gasped. The instructions had changed. Before, Some of the harder aspects of the mission had been delegated to fellow Death Eaters, but now they were all left up to Draco. 'There is no way I can do this all by myself,' he thought. Draco tried to remember if he had recently done anything that might have angered the Dark Lord. He couldn't recall any such event, and he wondered why Voldemort would give him such an impossible task.

The plan Voldemort had given him was much too complicated and required more than one person, which he didn't have. Maybe there was another way?

Getting in was not going to be a problem; it was the getting out with a convicted felon that was the difficult part. The only times he had heard of people escaping from Azkaban were of Sirius Black's and Barty Crouch, Jr.'s escape. The former he knew nothing about. The latter he knew occurred through an exchange, which he couldn't do because he didn't have anyone to exchange his father with.

Draco mentally went over the obstacles that he faced. Firstly, He had to sneak out of the Weasley's home without getting caught, but his time-turner could help him with that problem by letting him be in two places at once. He also had to get to Azkaban itself, then get inside, get Lucius, and get out before getting crazy. As an afterthought, he added, 'Without getting caught, either.'

Draco groaned in frustration. 'If only I had a Room of Requirements in a Box.' But then he realized, 'Getting into Hogwarts wouldn't be half as hard as getting into Azkaban. I could go there to get to the Room of Requirements, and if that doesn't at least give me an idea of what to do, I won't be any worse off.'

Draco quickly looked at the clock. It was nine-thirty. He needed to be back from Azkaban and have his father hidden somewhere by noon, giving him a grand total of two and a half hours to break his father out of Azkaban. This was going to be tough.

Draco crumpled up the parchment and threw it in his trunk. Before he could think of a way to sneak out of the Burrow, Harry burst through the door.

"Hey!" Draco said angrily. "Can't a man get a bit of privacy around here? What if I had not been decent?"

"Sorry," Harry said insincerely. "It's not like I haven't seen the same things before. Oh, that's right, I haven't. You're of much smaller proportions aren't you?"

"What do you need, Potter?" Draco asked, refusing to give in to immaturity.

"I just came to tell you that Mrs. Weasley wanted to know if you wanted to go with us to Hogsmeade. Everyone's going except Hermione, who says she has a headache."

Draco smiled. Hogsmeade was certainly closer to Hogwarts than the Burrow. "How long are you staying?"

"Oh, roughly until a bit after noon. We planned to eat lunch there."

"Perfect. I'll come."

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Draco found himself inside a random shop in Hogsmeade. Ginny had made the entire group stop at a bookshop for a book she seemed to desperately need, but she wouldn't let them follow her around the store, so while everyone else wandered around the store, Draco seized the opportunity to leave. He stood off to the side of the shop's front window so he could make sure Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Molly left before he made his way towards Hogwarts. The four didn't seem to notice that he had gone, and they went on to the other shops.

Draco, whose figurative head size rivaled that of a hot air balloon, felt a bit irked that his absence went unnoticed. How could anyone forget about him? He then decided to be grateful that he could press onward without any worries.

He left the shop and made his way down the familiar path to the school. When he arrived at the gate, he was surprised to see that it opened for him. He thought it might be locked, since school was not in session, but then he realized that it was probably only locked to those who weren't students or staff. He briskly walked to the side entrance to the school, and hurried up to the seventh floor where the room of requirements could be found.

He was a bit nervous at this point, since he hadn't been seen by anyone, and he was sure that he would eventually be ratted out by a painting. He walked up and down the corridor three times, passing the painting of Barnabas the Barmy each time. He concentrated on what he needed: something that could get him to Azkaban and back with his father without getting caught.

Finally, a silver door appeared in the wall. Draco walked into a room with a brick fireplace and a table set with curious objects. The only item he recognized was the pouch of floo powder. 'This room can't expect me to floo to Azkaban, can it?' he thought to himself. He looked at the other items. There were two identical bulbous, fist-sized green bottles, two small, white, uncorked vials that were so thin that the surface tension would keep the potion in the bottle, two ordinary-looking flasks of dismally grey potion, two chocolate bars, and what looked like an owl parcel bag. He looked closer at the potions, and saw that they were all labeled. The green ones were Transfiguration-Owl potions, the white ones said something like Restorative Potion (it was so small he couldn't be sure), and the grey ones were Emotionless potions. Even the pouches of floo powder had writing on them: _Ministry of Magic, pumpernickel._

At seeing this, Draco became very confused. The logical side of his brain said that that was what Draco was supposed to say when he used the fireplace, but what kind of place was pumpernickel?

Draco once again looked at all the potions. He guessed that he was supposed to use the floo powder to go to "pumpernickel" at the Ministry of Magic, then he was supposed to use the emotionless potion before getting into Azkaban so that the dementors wouldn't prey on him, then he was supposed to find his father, use the emotionless potion on him, and then have them both fly out of Azkaban as owls, to later use the restorative potions and turn back into normal people.

He gathered everything into the bag except for the one pouch of floo powder, which he took over to the fireplace.

"Ministry of Magic, pumpernickel," Draco said. He then dumped the powder out of the bag and disappeared into green flames.

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He reappeared at one end of a long and narrow room. He stepped out of the fireplace, which was also brick, and saw a gold plaque hanging above the fireplace that said "Ministry of Magic, Pumpernickel." He looked across the room to the weathered wooden door at the end. He walked over toward it, and saw a tarnished silver plaque that said, "Azkaban."

Draco reached in the bag and drank the grey potion. Draco grimaced at the taste and texture of it. It felt and tasted like he was swallowing pulpy cotton. Slowly, all warmth and feeling drained out of him. He now had no emotions. He could only rely on instinct and logic now.

He grabbed the icy doorknob and stepped through. He was blind. He felt as if he were being dragged underground through the earth, and then a sudden jolt of icy coldness enveloped him, and he couldn't breathe. He continued to be dragged through the water, and then through earth once more before he surfaced on a cold, stony floor.

Draco choked and coughed up dirt, water, and mud. When he was finally able to breathe, he sat up, and looked at his surroundings. Everything around him was made of cold, grey stone, and if he hadn't swallowed the Emotionless potion, he would instantly have been pierced with fear, panic, and intense sadness. There must have been at least a thousand dementors there, all sucking happy thoughts from anything human.

Draco got up, grabbed his bag, which had miraculously survived the harrowing trip there, and found removed the wand.

"Lumos," he said almost robotically.

Now that there was light, he could see a narrow passageway ahead. The passageway moved in a spiral, with doors on either side. It finally occurred to Draco that he could probably "Accio" his father, so that he wouldn't have to go searching through all the doors.

"Accio Lucius!" Draco shouted. Instead of his father being summoned to him, Draco was summoned to his father. Draco remained unfazed as the wand pulled him through the spiral. The wand dragged him down the narrow hall, and he must have bumped into twenty dementors before he crashed into a door, as the wand was still trying to take him to his father. The only thing Draco registered was pain, but no emotion followed. He let go of the wand, and watched as the wand kept banging at the door. It soon made its way to the keyhole, and it managed to shove itself in, serving as a rudimentary key. Draco turned the lock, and the door opened. Draco pulled at the wand, but it remained stuck. He decided to leave it for now.

He entered the gray room to see his father collapsed on the floor. By the light of a small window the size of a small television high up near the ceiling, he could see a dementor hovering over Lucius. Draco had no sense of fear, and simply walked over to his father, and made his almost lifeless body swallow the dark grey liquid. Once Draco had emptied the potion into his father's mouth, the dementor slowly drifted away out the door, since there were no emotions left to feed on, and the man it was supposed to be guarding seemed dead.

Draco also took out the green bottle and uncorked it. An owl-shaped vapor flowed from the mouth of the bottle and dissipated. He poured the greenish liquid into his father's pale mouth. His father immediately began to shrink, and his long, white hair turned into ashen feathers, with dark grey tips. Soon, Lucius Malfoy was about the size of one and a half grown man's heads. He lay there motionless on the floor, looking more like a taxidermist's masterpiece than a live owl. Draco unceremoniously shoved his father into the bag, and went back outside to where the wand was. He took the transfiguration potion out, closed the bag, put it on the floor, and then drank the potion.

Draco shrank and sprouted feathers similar to his father's, but his were a golden color, and the tips were brown. Draco used his beak to fasten the parcel bag to his leg. He decided to practice flying. It was very difficult, because he had to be able to carry himself, two small potions, and his father. After a while, he got the hang of it, and was able to fly relatively decently.

Now all he had to do was get the wand out of that infernal keyhole. He flew up to the keyhole, and tried pulling it out with his mouth. This proved very unsuccessful. He couldn't feel frustration, though, so he continued on until his wings grew sore. He flapped his way down to the floor and rested. Draco then remembered that Ginny had put a spell on the wand to return to her room by twelve. So he decided to wait until noon to leave.

After staring steadfastly at the wand for quite some time, he saw the wand start to jiggle its way out of the keyhole. Draco flew up to the wand and clamped his beak onto it. The wand ripped itself from the keyhole and quickly went around the door up to the window high up in the cell, dragging Draco along with it. The wand strained to pull Draco and his heavy parcel through the small window, and finally managed to squeeze them all through. Draco had now left the world of thinking, and struggled to maintain his hold—or rather, _bite_—on the wand that flew at insanely high speeds over England.

This high-speed travel lasted for about fifteen minutes until Draco finally arrived at the Weasley's home. The wand slowed down, and Ginny's window opened to welcome the wand back inside. The wand and it's passengers dropped onto the bed, where Draco was allowed to finally get his bearings. He was very sore.

Draco poked his beak into the bag, and took out one of the long thin vials that held the restorative potion. Draco tried licking the potion, but the vial was so thin that the potion didn't want to come out. Draco's current lack of lips to suck with didn't help either. Draco's bird instincts took over, and he flew the potion over to the desk, where he dropped it, and the vial broke. He swooped down to lick the liquid, and as he began to ingest the white potion, he turned back to normal.

Draco suddenly realized that he was naked. When he had turned into an owl, the clothes had vanished. He hurried over to his bag, so that he could quickly run down the hall to his own room and put on some clothes. He grabbed his bag, and was about to go for the door, when he heard it creak open.

A feminine voice asked, "Who's in there? I heard something break."

The door opened to reveal Hermione Granger, who blanched at the sight of a naked Draco Malfoy holding a bag in a strategic location.

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**AN:** So it turns out that he didn't even have to use the patronus. I really hope this chapter didn't suck, because I haven't updated in a LONG time, and it wouldn't be nice to finally have an update, but then realize it sucked. Run-on sentence….lol. Don't kill me for not updating. It was hard to think of a way to get Lucius out of Azkaban.

Please continue to read my fic. I promise I'll do better on the updating. This chapter was just extremely hard to write.


	12. Aunt Trixie

**AN: I am an evil author. I know. I should update more often. It's just that the ideas don't COME so often anymore. I apologize for my awful timeliness and the shortness of this chapter.**

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Hermione's blanched face quickly turned red. She immediately left and slammed the door. That was when Draco realized that the clothes hadn't disappeared. During his transformation, his feathers had fallen to the floor; but the feathers had really been his outfit. So Draco bent over and picked them up, hurriedly putting them on. He rushed over to his room and stuffed the bag with his father in it in his trunk.

"Sorry, father. I'll be back later," Draco said.

He then left his room and strode over to the fireplace in the den. Taking a dash of floo powder, he threw it in the fireplace and said, "Hogsmeade." He disappeared in a puff of green smoke.

Meanwhile, Hermione rushed to her room in an embarrassed state. She didn't think that she'd open the door to Ginny's room to find a naked Draco. 'What was he doing there anyway? I thought he went to Hogsmeade with the others?' After five minutes of excessive blushing, she decided to go back to Ginny's room and ask him what he was doing. It was while she was walking down the hall that she realized that she had missed the perfect opportunity to find out if the dark mark was on his arm or not.

She knocked on Ginny's door. Silence answered her. "Malfoy?" She called. When no one answered back, she turned the knob and peeked through a crack in the door. No one was there. "Maybe I'm just hallucinating? Oh Merlin, I'm going nuts—I'm hallucinating about that evil git."

Once Draco had resurfaced at Hogsmeade, He rushed over to the same bookshop he had left the Weasleys at. He pulled a random book off the shelf and pretended to be reading. He put a bored expression on his face. That was when Mrs. Weasley burst through the front door of the shop. Her eyes anxiously scanned the shelves, stopping on Draco's displeased face.

"Oh, we were so worried you'd disappeared—we only just realized—so sorry—" Mrs. Weasley blubbered as she smothered him with a hug.

"Mrs. Weasley, _please get off me._"

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry. (sniffle) Please don't tell the Ministry. I-I'm supposed to be watching you."

An amused smile played on Draco's lips. "Don't worry, I'm sure you won't get into too much trouble. They'll probably only fine you 100 galleons for child neglect. But no one has to know that you weren't with me for these past few hours."

"Thank you, Draco. I don't know how we could have afforded a fine like that. We still need to buy the children's school supplies."

"Don't worry about a thing, Mrs. Weasley. To all concerned, I was with you the entire morning." Draco smirked. He had an alibi.

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Voldemort paced in front of a dusty fireplace. He was expecting someone, Bellatrix Lestrange, to be specific. A flash of green coming from the hearth caught his attention.

"Do you have it, Bella?" he asked.

Bellatrix stepped out of the fire holding a thick, heavy book. "Yes my lord, it's right here."

Voldemort's eyes gleamed in the firelight. "Give it to me." She handed the worn book to him. "An Exhaustive Record of Wizarding Families," the Dark Lord read. "Excellent. This is exactly what I needed."

"I am glad to be of service to you."

"I don't doubt your devotion," Voldemort replied. "I am actually willing to overlook the fiasco at the ministry in light of your recent helpfulness."

Bellatrix looked relieved. "I knew you'd be pleased with the second prophecy. Thank you for your mercy."

"Yes, but you should be extremely careful in the future. I won't always be so kind." Bellatrix nodded in understanding.

"I need to discuss with you an important revelation," Voldemort began. "Why don't we sit down?" he said as he conjured two chairs for them to sit in.

"What is it?" Bellatrix asked curiously.

"I'm not completely certain that what I am about to say is true, since I still have to check in the book you gave me for the complete information, but from what I've seen so far, I think I may be on to something.

"What I am about to tell you, you may not repeat to anyone else." At this, Bellatrix smiled, for her Lord had chosen her above all of his other followers. "I think I may have found a relationship between squibs and muggleborn wizards. From what I have seen, there is exactly one muggleborn for every existing pure-blooded squib.

"As far as we know, magic is inherited. To explain squibs, we can presume that the parents simply did not pass on their magic to the child. But muggleborns…they are a different matter entirely. How are they able to receive magic?"

"That question has not been able to be answered ever since magic showed itself in humans," Bella replied.

"Perhaps now we may know the answer. My theory is that the magic stays dormant in pure-blooded squibs, and they pass on their dormant magic to their children."

"But then, if this magic is dormant, how does it become reawakened in what we presume to be muggleborns?"

"I'm not sure, Bella, but I think the magic becomes a bit stronger in each generation that passes, and that the magic chooses the person that it is best suited for. I could not see any other reason why some muggleborn wizards have been so powerful."

"So if you are correct, then does that mean that muggleborns are really purebloods?"

"No. Muggleborns couldn't be pure-blooded unless the squib had children with another pureblooded wizard. But in that case, they wouldn't be muggle-born. What I am trying to say is that muggleborns inherit pure-blooded magic."

"So if they aren't truly pure-blooded, why does any of this matter?"

"It matters because if a muggleborn was able to harness all of their stored pure-blooded magic, they could potentially be the greatest weapon in all of wizard history."

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"_What did you do to the wand?"_ Ginny screamed.

"I can explain—"

"Don't explain. I don't need to know the horrors that befell it."

"I can pay for it. How much do you need?" Draco asked.

"What do you mean, you can pay for it? A wand that an underage wizard can use without getting caught has no price. You're so arrogant, Malfoy. You think you can buy your way out of anything. I _hate _you!" Ginny shoved Draco out of her room and slammed the door behind him.

'Merlin, that girl has a temper. It was only a _wand._'

The group that had gone to Hogsmeade that morning had now returned, and Ginny had inevitably found out that the wand had been damaged.

Draco trudged to his room. When he entered he saw a black owl perched on the back of the desk chair. There was a letter attached to its leg, which Draco opened immediately.

_Dear Nephew,_

_Hello. It's your aunt. I wanted to ask you how your father's been doing. I hear that he hasn't been doing so well lately. If he's becoming too much of a burden at home, don't be afraid to send him over here. Your uncle and I can take care of him._

_Write back soon,_

_Your Aunt Trixie_

Voldemort had obviously ordered Bellatrix to check up on Draco. He couldn't think of any other reason why she would write to him. They weren't exactly close.

"Blimey," Draco shouted. His father was still in his trunk.

Draco rushed over to get him out. Thankfully, the bird was still breathing, although it was breathing shallowly. Draco poured a bit of water from Hermes's water dish into its mouth. Draco decided that he had done all he could do for his father, and then put him back with the restorative potion in the parcel bag, which he then fastened to his aunt's owl.

"Go back to Bellatrix," he commanded the owl. 'She did say not to be afraid to send him over,' he thought to himself as he watched the owl fly out his window.

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**OMG! I have, like, 100 reviews! I LOVE ALL OF YOU WHO REVIEW! You make me feel happy inside. I don't deserve the love…**


	13. The Ferret Leaves the Burrow

**AN: I'm a crappy author, I know. Stupid college applications. Anyway, here's the next chapter. I know Draco's birthday is in June, but what the heck, it's in the beginning of July now. **

The first two sections are not really that important. I could have cut them out, but I had already typed them up, and they took a long time to write. If anything, they are just about Draco showing off/being able to put up with all of the Gryffindors.

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Draco's life hadn't been too wonderful for the past day. Ginny had been repeatedly ignoring him and yelling at him. He wished she would make up her mind already. Mrs. Weasley was confused because every time she would ask Ginny what was bothering her, she would give a cryptic reply. On top of a ticked off Ginny, Hermione had been giving him weird looks and always left the room whenever he entered. Ron and Harry had always excluded him from their activities, so not much was new there, but the way everyone seemed to be avoiding him was annoying.

But the one thing that bothered him most of all was that his birthday was an entire day away. He couldn't wait until he was free of the blood-traitors and back in his own room. The closer the minutes ticked to his birthday, the more impatient he became.

Draco was sitting in front of a clock in the Weasley's family room trying to figure out the exact amount of time before he could leave when he was interrupted by his four Gryffindor schoolmates.

"Mum forced me to ask you if you wanted to play a bit of quidditch with us," Ron grumbled.

"You've just made me lose count!" Draco shouted. "What is your problem? Can't you let me count the hours until my freedom in peace?"

"Well excuse us for being polite," Ginny replied maliciously.

"Let's just go," Hermione urged. "No use fighting."

"Fine," Ginny grumbled. "Let's go."

The four of them filed out the door to the back yard. Draco watched as they constructed a sort of half-court quidditch pitch on a very small scale. They had made a few adjustments, though: there were four hoops instead of the usual three.

'Probably needs loads of practice, the git.'

He continued watching. Ron had taken up the position of keeper for both teams, Harry was seeker for both teams (whoever was in possession of the quaffle when he caught it got the points), and Ginny and Hermione were opposing chasers. He watched as the two girls would try to get the battered-looking quaffle through the four hoops unsuccessfully.

Draco thought, 'I could do that much better and much faster than those two, and I'm not even a chaser.'

The two girls still could not get the quaffle through the hoops even after fifteen minutes of play.

"Merlin, how hard can it be to get a ball past that bloody oaf?" Draco said to himself in annoyance. With a sigh, Draco got up out of the chair he had been sitting in and made his way towards the door. "I'll show them how it's done."

Once he had reached the makeshift quidditch pitch, Harry had called a time-out.

"You playing?" he asked.

"Of course. You all play so badly, there has to be someone to show you the proper way."

Ron rolled his eyes. "If you're going to play," he said, "there's an extra broom in the shed over there."

Draco walked over to the shed and found the broom Ron had mentioned.

"A Cleansweep Two? Do you really expect me to be able to fly on this?" Draco asked incredulously. "I could probably jump higher than this can fly, and I'd do it faster, too."

"Well that's the only one we have left," Ron said irritably. "Take it or leave it."

"Fine. I'll fly brilliantly even without my Nimbus 2001."

"Whatever you say," Harry said, laughing a bit.

Draco mounted the broom and flew up jerkily. Ron had assigned Draco to be Ginny's seeker, and Harry to be Hermione's seeker. Ginny did not appreciate this.

"There's no way I'm going to be on a team with the git who broke my wand," she spat.

"It's not like I want to be on your team either," Draco said in reply.

Harry intervened. "You know what, Ginny? You can be on my team and Draco can be on Hermione's team, alright?" Ginny agreed, and they began to play.

Ron released the snitch and threw out the quaffle. They didn't use the bludgers because there were no beaters, and the pitch was not big enough to accommodate the swerves the bludgers would cause.

Ginny caught the quaffle and flew over towards the hoops, Hermione following close behind. Ginny threw the red ball towards an unguarded hoop, but Ron caught it just as it was about to go through. He catapulted the ball to the other side of the pitch, and both chasers followed. Ginny was once again too fast for Hermione, and this time she had managed to get the ball past Ron.

"Score! Ten points for Gryffindor!" Harry and Ginny hi-fived.

"You can't call yourselves Gryffindor," Hermione complained. "I'm a Gryffindor too!"

"Nope, We call Gryffindor for our team name. You guys can be Slytherin," Harry said.

Hermione retorted, "That's not fair! I don't want to be Slytherin!"

"What's wrong with being a Slytherin?" Draco asked. "But more importantly, how do you expect to win if you haven't even managed to catch the ball once? I say we switch before they get too far ahead of us. Oh, and switch brooms with me too, Granger."

Hermione decided to do what Draco had suggested, even though she was somewhat embarrassed that he had remarked about her lack of athletic skills. As much as she tried, she could never really seem to improve her physical capabilities. Her mental strength was her only strength.

She took Draco's broom and handed off her own. Once they were all in position, Ron once again threw out the quaffle. Draco immediately seized the quaffle and flew over to the hoops. He launched the quaffle at the hoop farthest from Ron, but Ron managed to bat it away. Draco caught the quaffle as it came back, and quickly sent it back to another hoop. Ron hadn't expected this, allowing Draco to score.

"Ha! Ten points for Slytherin!"

"Hey! We're NOT Slytherin. I refuse to be one!" Hermione shouted back.

"Just accept the flipping name and look out for the Snitch. All I've seen you do is watch me."

Ron released the quaffle, and the game resumed once more. Ginny and Draco began battling over the quaffle. Hermione scanned the skies, but she couldn't see the Snitch anywhere. She looked over to Harry, but he was as luckless as her in the pursuit of the snitch. Hermione drifted around the quidditch pitch looking around aimlessly. She caught sight of Crookshanks batting at something among the flowers along the side of the house. She made her way over towards the half-kneazle, knowing that if he had destroyed something, it would be her responsibility.

"Crookshanks, what are you doing over here? You know you're not supposed to be playing in the flowers," she scolded gently.

She got off her broom to investigate. As she got closer, she saw that Crookshanks had pinned something to the ground; it was struggling to escape her pet's grasp. Upon seeing a pair of silver wings glinting in the sunlight, she realized that her cat had trapped the snitch. She quickly snatched it out of the cat's possession, and ran back over to the quidditch game where Draco was gloating again, as he had scored again.

"I've gotten the snitch!" Hermione shouted.

"Yes!" Draco shouted. "Brilliant, Granger!" Draco turned back to a disappointed Harry and Ginny. "We won! Even with the Cleansweep Two." Draco flew back down to the ground and stepped off his broom. As he was heading back to the house, he told Harry, "I think you're losing your touch, Potter. I'd be ashamed if someone on a Cleansweep Two beat me." Then he opened the door and went inside.

Harry's face darkened and he stepped off his broom. "I'm going inside," he said. "I don't feel much like playing Quiddich anymore."

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"Hermione, play a game of Wizard's chess with me?" pleaded Ron. Harry had refused, so Ron had moved on to the next available person.

"Ron, can't you see I'm busy?" Hermione asked, holding up the book she had in her lap up for him to see more clearly.

"But Harry won't play either! There's nobody else."

"Ask Malfoy to play."

Draco, who was sitting in the next chair over in the Weasley's den writing a letter, looked up from his parchment. "Someone called me?"

"Play Ron in wizard's chess. I need to finish reading our potions textbook by tonight."

Malfoy looked over at Ron with quite some interest. "I'll gladly beat you. Where's the board?"

"Hang on, I'll go fetch it." Ron shot a dark look at Hermione for making him play with Malfoy, but she was already absorbed in the book.

Ron brought his chess set over to the coffee table in the center of the room and set up the board.

"White or black?" He asked Draco.

"Black."

Ron turned the board around so that the black pieces were on Draco's side, and then started the game by moving his pawn forward. Draco started by bringing out his knight.

Hermione tried to concentrate on the textbook, but the numerous crashes as one piece took another kept distracting her. She finally decided to just watch the game. What surprised her most as she looked at the board was the lack of white pieces. Draco's pieces had taken over the board, and Ron was looking nervous. His king was in the right corner, surrounded by the assorted pieces he had left.

"Rook to G7," Draco ordered. As Draco had commanded, his rook smashed a pawn on the square. "Checkmate."

Ron looked at the board in disbelief, but Draco was right. The only thing Ron could have done would have been to take Draco's rook with his king, but that would have left his king open to Draco's bishop on E5.

"Bollocks," said Ron.

"Well, now that I've beaten you severely at chess, I'm going to finish writing my letter," Draco replied.

Hermione was just as amazed as Ron that Draco had won. "How did you get so good at chess?" she asked.

"Oh, my father would play with me as a child, and if I lost, I wouldn't get my pocket money. I learned to play well quite quickly after that, although I'm a bit out of practice." Draco picked up his parchment and went to his room.

"Out of practice, my arse," Ron said as he started putting the pieces back in the box rather roughly.

Hermione replied, "Don't be a sore loser, Ron. You wanted to play, and now you've had your chance, so be grateful that Draco didn't refuse you like everyone else did." She began to read the Potions text once again.

----------------------------------------------- The rest of the afternoon came and went, and so did the night. The minute the sun broke through the horizon, Draco woke up. It was his birthday. He was free to go back home.

When this realization had finally sunk in, Draco burst out of his bed and hurried to the kitchen, where he made himself a quick breakfast. After he scarfed that down, he ran down the hall back to his room to start packing his trunk. The loud thumping his footsteps made woke up everyone in the house.

As Draco was jamming things in his trunk in a crazed fashion, Hermione and Mrs. Weasley appeared at the door.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing at this hour that's making such a racket?" Mrs. Weasley demanded, sleep still evident in her eyes.

"That's what I want to know," added Hermione. Harry and Ron had now gathered at Draco's door along with the two women.

"What's going on here?" asked Harry with a yawn.

"I'm leaving," Draco replied. "It's my birthday today. I'm seventeen, and I'm of age. I don't need to be baby-sat anymore."

With a flick of his wand, Draco managed to make all of his belongings fit into his trunk. He grabbed his trunk by the handle, and headed for the door. The group of people that had congregated around his door parted before him like the Red Sea. Over to the fireplace he went, and just as he was about to go through the whole process of getting out the floo powder, he remembered something. He opened his trunk and grabbed a handful of galleons, which he handed to Mrs. Weasley.

"They're for Ginny," he explained. "She did me a favor. Oh, and thank you, Mrs. Weasley, for being so hospitable." Draco's manners came out instinctively, despite the fact that he considered the Weasleys to be blood traitors.

He closed his trunk and threw a handful of powder into the fire.

"Malfoy Manor," he said to the fireplace, and then stepped through quickly.

Draco stepped foot inside Malfoy Manor. He couldn't help but think how good it felt to be home. He called for a house-elf to take his trunks to his room, and found some parchment to write a quick note to Voldemort:_ I'm home_. He got his Eagle-owl, Hermes, to deliver it straight away.

Now that he had done everything he was obligated to do, he wandered into the kitchen to find a house elf that would make him a birthday breakfast.

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Later on that day, Hermione was tidying up the room Draco had occupied; She didn't want Mrs. Weasley to have too much work to do. As she was taking the sheets off the bed to wash them, something silver fell out. Upon inspecting it, she realized that it was Draco's pocket watch.

'I'll have to return this to him later,' she thought. 'But first, I'll wash these sheets.'

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Draco's owl flew in through the window of the old, decrepit house Voldemort was staying in (he had an affinity to ancient, timeless things.) The owl perched on the back of a tall chair. Voldemort walked across the dusty floor, and as he got closer, the owl began to cower.

"What have we here?" he said to the owl, which stuck the leg with the letter on it out. "A letter. It must be from Draco, from the look of the owl." Voldemort untied the letter from the bird's leg, and read it's contents.

"He's home. I suppose I shall have to pay him a visit. I'm very pleased with him, actually. It was quite clever how Draco managed to get his father out of Azkaban. And Lord Voldemort rewards those who please him…Yes, I shall give him the most important assignment of all. There will be sacrifices, of course, but now that I think of it, he's the only one who could possibly do it.

"Wait here," he commanded the owl as he went into the next room for some parchment and a quill.

He scrawled out a quick letter in his spidery script and went back to Hermes with it. As soon as the letter was tied on, Hermes flew away. He was glad to get away from that dark, awful place.

Hermes arrived at Malfoy Manor nearly at dinnertime. "Hermes, you're back," Draco said as he opened a window to let the owl in. "He wrote back?" he said upon seeing the parchment Hermes carried. Draco opened it and read the lone sentence on the page. Draco's face looked slightly nervous. "He's coming in an hour."

Draco prepared himself for Voldemort's visit. He ordered some house elves to clean the main living room, and quickly ate supper. Voldemort probably had something important to say, and Draco didn't want to have his stomach growling the entire time. Draco made sure everything was as perfect as possible; the Dark Lord used the Cruciatus curse liberally, so Draco tried to minimize his chances of getting cursed.

An hour later, a loud crack in the den signaled Voldemort's arrival. Draco, who had been sitting patiently on the large, antique sofa, sprang to his feet and proceeded to kneel before the Dark Lord.

"Good evening, Draco," Voldemort greeted.

"Good evening, my lord."

"I suppose you know why I'm here?"

"To give me new instructions, sir?"

"Yes, you are correct. You may rise. Let us sit down." Draco stood up from his kneeling position and sat opposite Voldemort on the sofa. "Draco, how many muggle-borns currently attend Hogwarts?"

"The last time I looked at the records, there were 50 out of the 1000 students that attend. The large majority that remain are mudbloods. Only a minority of purebloods."

"Are there any muggle-borns that particularly stand out?"

Draco's mind turned instantly to Hermione. "There's Hermione Granger," Draco began. "She's possibly the smartest witch at our school. She always knows the answer to everything, and performs spells and charms incredibly well. She puts some purebloods to shame," Draco said, thinking of Neville. His brow furrowed slightly. "May I know why you ask?"

Voldemort looked Draco in the eyes. "You are not allowed to discuss with anyone what I am about to tell you. Understood?" Draco nodded his head.

"For every pureblooded squib there is a muggle-born. My theory is that magic lies dormant in squibs. They pass on their dormant magic, and with each generation that passes, the magic becomes increasingly stronger. Eventually a child is born that is strong enough to harness some of that magic, and it becomes a wizard.

"I'm looking for a muggle-born that was able to harness _all _of the stored up magic."

"Why?"

"The power that a muggle-born could potentially harness is so strong that I would be daft not to try and use it as a weapon in the war that I plan to start." Voldemort said this with an air of finality, signaling to Draco that no more questions were to be asked on that subject.

"So all that is left to discuss is your assignment, Draco."

"What must I do to serve your lordship?"

"I need you to find this Hermione Granger and bring her to me so I may inspect her. If she is the mudblood I am looking for, I will give you another assignment, If not, then keep searching for muggle-borns that are particularly powerful."

"Of course, my lord," Draco replied, wondering how he was going to be able to find Hermione alone so he could abduct her.

Suddenly there was a loud knocking coming from the front door. Draco rose to answer the door. "Excuse me, while I see who is at the door," Draco said.

He walked to the front door and looked through the peep hole to see who it was. He was astonished to find that it was Hermione.

'Why the hell is she at my house?' Draco thought. He rushed back to the living room to ask Voldemort for instructions.

"Granger is at the door. Should I bring her to you conscious or unconscious?"

"Unconscious is best…I don't need her knowing that you are one of my followers."

Draco ran back to the door and opened it.

"Hello, Hermione."

Hermione pushed some hair behind her ear and replied, "Hi, I just came to return your watch. It was still in your bed when you rushed off this morning."

"Thank you. This watch is worth more than life."

"You're welcome."

After a moment of silence, Draco spoke. "Would you like to come in for a bit and rest?"

"Oh, no, I should really be going now."

"How are you getting home?"

"Well, I took a bus here, but I suppose it's gone now…"

"Do you want to come in while I call a taxi for you?" Draco steathfully took his wand from his back pocket.

"I'd appreciate that."

"Come on in."

Draco waited until she was inside to perform the silent spell "Stupefy." She began to sway, and he caught her as she fell.

He carried her into the living room where Lord Voldemort was waiting for them.

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**AN: I hope you like this chapter, and I will try my hardest to get my next chapter up with in the window of a week. I feel like a horrible author……it's those stupid college applications, I tell you.**


	14. Lord of Amacy Keeps House Elves

Disclaimer: You know. Yeah.

AN: I'm a dork. I should probably not go to college. Applications are such a hassle. (sarcasm…..)

Argentina for Christmas! YES. Barbeque.

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Voldemort watched Draco carry Hermione into the living room like a groom would carry a bride over the threshold. It was disgusting to watch. Draco, who was a tall and pale pureblood with handsome aristocratic features, greatly contrasted with the unrefined, ruddy-complexioned mudblood in his arms, her hair more unruly than usual. But their contrast and the intimacy of their position strongly reminded him of the prophecy.

…_Dark and light…Lord of Amacy…_

Why did those parts of the prophecy come to mind so rapidly? But then it hit him. He knew who "Lord of Amacy" was. How could he have not noticed before? After all, Lord Voldemort was an anagram too.

"Draco Malfoy…" Lord Voldemort said slowly and deliberately.

"Yes?"

Voldemort smiled at his own cunning. "Put the girl on the coffee table." After Draco had done so, he commanded, "Bring me a silver knife, a glass goblet, two mixing bowls, dragon blood, and an animal fetus of some kind, if you have one in your stores."

Draco did what was asked of him immediately. He did not ask questions, for he knew they would go unanswered. He gathered everything quickly, for he was eager to see what the Dark Lord was going to do. He set the ingredients on the parts of the coffee table that Hermione was not occupying, and then stood away from the table at attention.

Voldemort slowly circled Hermione, and came to stand by her left arm. Picking up the knife, he ran it along her arm, pressing down hard. A crimson stream gushed from the wound, which Voldemort caught in the first bowl. He put down his knife, and reached for his wand.

"Medeoro," he incantated while tracing his wand over the open wound. The cut healed immediately.

He poured a drop of dragon blood into the bowl and then set it on the table. Voldemort looked up. "Lucius," he called. There was the sound of footsteps at the top of the grand staircase that lead down into the entryway, which was next to the living room they stood in.

Draco stepped over into the entryway and looked at his father. He was still haggard from being in Azkaban, but no longer did he look dead.

"Draco, my son. Welcome home," was his father's greeting.

"I should say the same to you; welcome back," Draco replied.

Lucius reached the bottom of the staircase, and they both walked into the living room.

"Is there anything you needed, Master?"

"I need some of your blood."

"Yes, of course." Lucius then held out his arm and walked a bit closer to Voldemort. The Dark Lord once again took up the silver knife, and repeated the process with Lucius. Lucius winced the moment the blade severed his skin, but did not complain. Voldemort healed Lucius' arm once he had gathered the necessary blood, and sent Lucius back to rest upstairs. He cautioned Lucius to lock the door and not come out until Hermione was gone.

While Voldemort was pouring the dragon blood into the bowl with Lucius' blood in it, Draco asked, "Why did you need my father's blood?"

"I needed pure blood."

"So why did you not use mine? My father is ill."

Voldemort looked at Malfoy severely. "Do not question me."

Draco quickly apologized before Voldemort's temper resulted in the cruciatus curse.

The Dark Lord then proceeded to cut off a small piece of tissue from the fetus (Malfoy had explained that it was from a cow), which he placed in the glass goblet. Picking up the bowl with Hermione's blood in it, he poured the blood onto the knife, and it ran down the length of the blade into the glass goblet. Voldemort repeated the process with Lucius' blood. Voldemort reached for his wand again, which he used to stir the blood together until the fetus tissue dissolved, all the while muttering a spell under his breath repeatedly.

After a while, Voldemort removed his wand and inspected the blood carefully and expectantly. "Draco, do you see any mud?"

Draco looked at the goblet of blood and replied, "No, sir."

"Good." Voldemort looked very pleased. "That means that we need not look any further than the girl you see before you for a weapon. She is the mudblood we've been looking for."

Voldemort paused, and Draco saw that he was thinking hard about something.

"Draco, what house does she belong to?"

"Gryffindor."

Voldemort was silent for a long time before he began to speak again. "I need you to get close to Miss Granger. More specifically, I need you to make her do work for our side. I think it best that she does not know that she is doing our bidding. Furthermore, because these Gryffindors are so headstrong, you must make her fall in love with you. That is the only sure way that she will follow your advice so easily…you are enemies, are you not?"

Draco looked slightly uncomfortable. "Yes, we are, but are you sure that it is absolutely necessary that I make her fall in love with me? It's going to be much too difficult."

Voldemort's eyes glittered with anger. "_I told you never to question me!_" Voldemort raised his wand. "_Crucio!_"

Draco felt the familiar, unbearable pain shoot through him and began to scream. His bones were on fire, and his skin felt as if it were being cut with a thousand knives. It was excruciating. After a few minutes, Voldemort released Draco from the curse.

"That ought to teach you some manners, boy. I have been far too lenient with you. Now, put everything away, and make _sure_ you show this Granger girl extreme civility. It will be more than your life is worth if you fail to control her. I will give you further instructions once I have studied the prophecy sufficiently. Good evening." With that, Voldemort disapparated.

Draco, on the floor from the extreme pain of the cruciatus curse, remained there a few more minutes recovering. After he was able to stand up, he took all questionable items from the room. When he was sure that he and the room looked presentable, he moved Hermione to the sofa, where he brought her back to consciousness with a spell.

"Hermione, are you all right? You collapsed as soon as you came in the house." He tried his best to look concerned.

Hermione looked a bit confused at her new location. "Yeah, I'm alright." Sitting up, she asked, "What time is it?"

Draco pulled out his watch. "It's nearly seven o' clock."

Hermione looked alarmed. "I need to go back to the Burrow immediately. They'll be worried; I've been gone far too long."

She stood up immediately, and began to walk towards the door, but Draco, anxious to make her stay so that he could get to work on acquiring her regard, stopped her, and under the pretense of worrying over her health said, "You've just gone unconscious, I can't let you leave. Stay here a while, your well-being demands it."

Hermione looked surprised. "Are you worried about me, Malfoy?"

Draco, still quite proud and unhappy about his instructions, said, "I am not so much worried about you, as worried that if you fall unconscious again, and somehow get hurt or die, I might be somehow liable."

"That's how it always is with you, isn't it?" Hermione asked seriously. "Don't you ever do anything just because it makes you happy, or because you want to?"

Draco immediately took offense. "I do things that make me happy."

Hermione scoffed. "Right, because bullying makes _everyone_ feel warm and fuzzy inside."

Draco's face began to darken with anger. "I play quidditch."

"And here I thought you only played because of the popularity. So it doesn't bother you that the only reason you made the team was because your father bribed the captain? And that you always seem to lose?"

In carefully measured words and a dangerously low voice, Draco spoke. "You accuse me of bullying, yet here you are, belittling me." His voice building up to a crescendo, he continued, "You accuse me of using devious means to achieve my ends, and yet now, when no one is looking, you act in opposition to the truce we made. Is that not devious as well?"

Hermione was taken aback by this comment. Draco, taking her silence as agreement, calmed down. With his emotions back under control, he quickly planned a way to start fulfilling Voldemort's instructions.

Looking remorseful, he spoke. "I suppose I haven't given you much reason to trust me. It took an effort to befriend me when you knew I most likely would hardly appreciate the gesture. And who can blame you for breaking our truce when I rarely honored it?"

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I was dumbstruck. It was the only reaction I thought would be appropriate at seeing Malfoy being genuinely considerate to a muggle-born like me. It was the closest thing to an apology I had ever heard Malfoy say. I was so astonished that I allowed him to help me sit back down on the most expensive-looking sofa I had ever seen in my life. He told me that he was writing to Molly, telling her I would stay at the Manor at least until the next morning. Everything happened so fast, I didn't disagree.

He left, and brought back his owl, Hermes, along with parchment and a quill. I found it ironic that he named his owl Hermes. Sure, it was the name of the messenger of the Greek gods, but it was also the male version of my name. As I watched him scrawl out a quick letter, I entertained the idea of telling him so. I didn't though, because I wasn't sure about what his reaction would be. He was behaving very strangely. He finished up the letter, and sent Hermes off in the direction of the Burrow.

How I longed to be back there. Malfoy Manor was large, dark, and empty. I already missed the warmth and busyness of the Weasleys' home. But now I was obligated to stay.

Malfoy sat next to me on the couch. With a look of concern on his face, he asked how I was feeling.

"I feel fine," I replied.

"Have you eaten?"

"No," I replied. "Have you?"

"I have not. Shall we dine together?" he asked with utmost cordiality.

Once again, I was caught off-guard by his civility, even if his formality was a bit much. "If it is no trouble to you."

He rose, and helped me up from the silk cushion of the antique chairs. "This way." He led me through a maze of corridors until we reached a large room, richly furnished with a long, polished table. There were large windows that showed it was already very dark outside, and between them were portraits. I guessed that they were of Draco's relatives.

He pulled out a chair from the table to allow me to sit. He pushed my chair in as I sat down. He then rang a bell that had been in the center of the table. Almost immediately, a house-elf peeked in at the doorway. It was dressed in a green tea towel bearing the Malfoy crest. I felt the anger begin to creep in through my mind.

"You keep house elves?" I asked contemptuously.

"Yes. Is that so surprising?" he replied calmly. Then a sudden look of realization washed over his face. "Oh, yes. You believe house elves should be free. You're the one who started that organization—what was it called? Puke? Retch? Am I close?"

"It's S.P.E.W., and yes, I believe that house elves are not treated well at all." I could hear my voice rising with every word I spoke. "They work day in and day out, and they don't even receive pay for their efforts. No vacations, and some are even subjected to abuse by their owners. How do you justify keeping them in servitude? They're practically your slaves!"

Draco gave me an angry look. "Are you accusing me of inhumane treatment of my elves? I'll have you know that we are nicer to our elves than most people are. And besides, they don't want to be free. They enjoy working."

"How can you say that?"

"What, you don't believe me?" He gave me an incredulous look. "Do you want me to prove it?" he asked, pulling his shoe and sock off. "Bandy, come here," he addressed the house elf.

Bandy went ever to him trembling. He was obviously afraid of Draco. When Bandy had gotten close enough, Draco stuck out his hand, which held a sock. For some reason, Bandy recoiled from it. I had seen house elves look offended anytime I brought up freeing them, but the fear in the little elf's large eyes was tremendous compared to the usual reaction. Draco thrusted the sock forward, and the elf took a step backward, whimpering.

Draco turned to look at me. "Don't you see? They're frightened if you offer them freedom."

"How do I know you haven't ordered them not to accept clothes unless you explicitly order them to?" I asked.

The little elf erupted in tears. "Please, miss, don't ask the master to free me! Bandy is scared to leave. What would the other elves think? They'd think Bandy is a bad elf. Please!"

This outburst made me feel unsettled. Harry and Ron had always thought I was bonkers to try to get elves their freedom, but I hadn't taken them seriously until now. The distress in Bandy's voice…

Draco interrupted my thoughts. "Granger." Handing the sock over to me, he said, "You free him." Looking back over to the elf, he said, "When she hands you the clothes, you are to accept them."

At this, Bandy began to shriek and wail. He began banging his head on the floor, screaming incoherently. I couldn't bear to watch the display. My heart gave a lurch, and my eyes flooded with hot tears.

"Stop!" I cried. "You're hurting yourself!"

"Contain yourself, Bandy," Draco commanded. Bandy stopped screaming, but he was trembling uncontrollably. Draco looked at me. "Don't you see the misery you cause by trying to 'help' these creatures? They need to be protected by wizards. They were meant to serve us, and by freeing them they are vulnerable to those that would not be so kind to them." I wiped a tear from my cheek. "Certainly they give up some of their freedoms, but I have found that safety is necessary, and most people would give up anything for it." Putting his hand on my shoulder, he said, "But I suspect that Gryffindors forget that not everyone is as brave as they are."

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**AN:** I know this chapter is crap (well, the end of it anyway…) but I wanted to post something before I leave on vacation.

**1: For those who didn't figure it out, Draco Malfoy is Lord of Amacy.**

2: I tried to make Draco's last two sentences seem as if he was talking about himself. (In relation to his alliance with Voldemort.)

Have a great vacation, you guys.


	15. Ghost?

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. **

**AN: sorry that I haven't updated sooner. I've been busy, in addition to having writer's block. I hope this can satisfy you for now.**

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I didn't mean for her to cry. She obviously felt a compassion for these creatures that I would never know. But she was attacking my very way of life. I had to defend myself. At least she finally got it through her head that it's not a good idea to free the house elves. Most of them ended up drinking themselves to death.

"Are you alright?" I asked Hermione. Her eyes shone with tears. I hated to admit it, but they did look beautiful. What was it about girls that made you feel like you had to make them stop crying, to comfort them? It must be a defense they are born with, or a weakness men are born with. Either way.

"I'm okay." Hermione dried her eyes. "I'm a little hungry though." I smiled at this.

"Bandy, would you bring us some dinner?" The elf perked up right away and rushed off in the direction of the kitchen.

Suddenly I remembered something. I don't know why I was reminded of that night Hermione had snuck into my room, but I was. She had already confessed her feelings for me. All I needed to do was tell her that I felt the same way, and I would fulfill my instructions from Voldemort. This was almost too easy. And then I remembered my rejection of her. I was a bit harsh. Maybe she would hold that against me. Maybe she had already made up her mind that she would not give in to my charms ever again. Well, the only way to find out was to tell her.

I reached over and brushed a tear off her cheek. I let my hand linger for a moment, then pulled it back hastily. I tried my hardest to blush. This was a calculated move. I had seen countless other men do exactly the same thing, and it always made the woman start consider romantic possibilities, even if it was just briefly.

Hermione looked confused for a moment, then mildly curious. She had stopped crying.

To break the silence, I asked, "Should we sit down at the table?"

"Sure," she replied. I walked over to a chair and pulled it out for her. She sat down, and I pushed her in. I sat down afterwards.

We sat in silence until Hermione spoke. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For lifting me out of ignorance."

"Oh. You're welcome. I'm sorry I made you cry." Hermione looked surprised by my apology. I'm not as heartless as you think, Granger.

"Don't worry about it." She gave me a weak smile, which I returned.

While we had been speaking, Bandy had set our places with our dinner and drink. We began to eat.

I decided to change the subject. "So. When do you think we'll receive our notifications for Head Boy and Head Girl?"

Hermione looked at me seriously. "Do you really think I'll get one?"

I smiled. "Of course. Who else would Dumbledore choose for Head Girl?"

She looked down at her lap. "I don't know."

"You're so modest, Granger. But you still haven't answered my question."

"I don't know. Usually the announcements come with our supplies list, and that doesn't come until after Harry's birthday. So probably a few more weeks." I grimaced at Potter's name, which Hermione noticed. "Harry's not so bad." She paused. "Tell me, Malfoy, did you hate Harry solely on the fact that he refused your friendship?"

I frowned. "I have my pride."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Sometimes I think you're only jealous of Harry."

My face showed the anger I felt. I was silent until I thought of a suitable response. Suitable meant not ripping her head off for mentioning such a thought. I decided to use this as an opportunity to declare my love for her. Ridiculous idea.

"Of course I'm jealous of Potter." I softened my features and began to act nervous. "He gets to spend most of his time with you." I stared at my food. When I chanced a look at her face, she looked mildly confused, yet sympathetic. I turned in my chair to face her, and infusing a note of desperation in my voice, I said, "All this time I've ridiculed you for being muggle-born, it was only because I was jealous that you did better than me in my studies. My coldness towards you was the way I tried to distance myself from you. I knew my family would never allow me to have a relationship with anyone that was muggle-born. But now they're gone, and I can tell you now that I care for you."

There. It had been done: a most theatrical performance. Now I just watched to see how she would respond.

She didn't say anything at first. Her face was unnaturally white, and she looked rather shocked. Slowly she began to gather her wits, and responded.

"Malfoy," she began. I looked at her anxiously. Her reply meant the difference between success and failure. "I'm sorry that I gave you the impression that I had feelings for you, but I don't."

So I had failed. Frustration began to well up behind my eyes.

"You've never approved of my friends, and they've never approved of you. I could never consider any man who doesn't respect my friends, nor has their respect. I don't even know you. For all I know you could be a Death Eater."

In one swift motion she reached for the sleeve of my left arm. I caught her hand before she could reveal the Mark on my arm.

A tear of frustration rolled down my cheek, and my voice trembled with anger at her gall. "That will be quite enough, Granger. If you are done eating, I will call a house elf to lead you to your room."

She nodded, so I summoned Bandy and gave her instructions quickly; then I stormed off to my own quarters.

--------------------------

Voldemort had been staring at the parchment with the prophecy on it for an hour, analyzing it. His efforts were in vain, for he was having a hard time making it out.

The wizard's world will arm to fight  
When two great enemies of old unite  
Two enemies, and houses four,   
Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Gryffindor

Voldemort supposed that this meant that the students at Hogwarts were going to rally behind Potter and an enemy of his to fight him. Voldemort pondered over which enemy the prophecy could be speaking of. He couldn't even be sure that Potter was one of the two, but Voldemort was willing to risk that. He knew that Severus and Draco harbored an especially deep hate of Harry, so for the time being, he resolved to make plans for Severus and Draco to help Harry, although in ways that wouldn't compromise the Dark Lord's life.

_The battle will be short and quick,_

_But won't be won by yew wand's flick._

_Darkness will die its darkest death_

_As darkness draws its infant breath._

As far as Voldemort could tell, the first two lines didn't ensure that the Potter boy would win, nor that he would lose. It just meant Voldemort wasn't going to win by using his wand. The last two lines puzzled him. He couldn't make anything of it, except that maybe as he died, another force of darkness would begin to gain power.

_Beware to those who seek light's victory:_

_The triumph is not the first in history._

_Darkness harbored in goodness' womb _

Allows the dark to evade the tomb.

The first two lines of the stanza boded well to Voldemort. It meant that the dark would eventually triumph, regardless of this next battle. The last two lines eluded him, as had the other two. Voldemort decided to study the last two lines of the last two stanzas.

_Darkness will die its darkest death_

_As darkness draws its infant breath._

_Darkness harbored in goodness' womb _

Allows the dark to evade the tomb.

When grouped together, they seemed to relate to each other. They reminded him of a familiar idea, but he couldn't quite remember what. He decided to sleep on it, and once he had figured something out, he could make a plan.

----------------

'Oh my God. That was…well, what was it? It was insane.' thought Hermione as she followed the house elf up a grand staircase to the bedrooms. 'He showed a fair amount of courage, though. Not everyone would take a risk in declaring their feelings to someone who was predisposed to reject them.'

Bandy and Hermione had reached the top of the staircase and gone down a richly decorated corridor, with lights that turned on as they walked in and turned off as soon as they passed through. Soon they reached the end, and Bandy opened the door to reveal a large room with soft, dark green carpet and lighter green walls that had silver designs. A large canopy bed stood in the center of the room with an armoire off to one side and a vanity on the other side. As she stepped into the room, she realized that the walls on either side of the door were filled with bookcases and innumerable books.

"I'm sorry, Miss, that Mr. Malfoy could only offer you the smallest room in the house. It was the only one ready to receive a guest."

Hermione looked at the room again. It was huge. "This is the smallest?"

Bandy looked apologetic. "Sorry, Miss."

"No, no, that's quite alright. If this is the smallest room, I'm not sure I would be comfortable in any of the larger rooms."

Bandy cheered up at this. "If Miss needs bed clothes, there should be some in the armoire. And if Miss should need anything else, ring the silver bell on the vanity over there, and someone will be up to help you. Good night, Miss."

"Good night, Bandy," said Hermione as Bandy disapparated.

With Bandy gone, Hermione flopped onto the bed.

"Merlin, Malfoy makes no sense." Hermione said to herself. "No sense at all." Hermione wondered over the fact that Malfoy could like someone like her. Malfoy had always seemed the kind of person to go after the pretty, pureblooded girls. Not that Hermione wasn't pretty, but there were others who certainly had more beauty than she. And then Hermione wasn't even a half-blood, yet he still liked her. Could that mean that he wasn't the person he showed to everyone at school? Could he be a decent person on the inside? 'Perhaps,' she thought, 'but if he insists on portraying himself as a bully and a jerk, then I won't even consider him.'

With that, she rose from the bed and searched through the armoire for a night dress, and put it on. It was a bit loose, but it would have to do. She climbed back into bed, and as the lights dimmed, obeying her thoughts, the last thought that went through her mind was, 'If he changes, which he probably won't, then I'll give him a chance. He is a bit handsome, after all.' Then she closed her eyes.

-

Hermione's sleep was broken by the loud noise outside her door. It sounded as if someone had stumbled along in the dark and collapsed. A ghostly sort of wail was muffled by the door as it entered Hermione's room. At first, she thought it was a dream, but, rising in her bed, she saw lights flickering in the crack under the door. Perhaps a ghost, then? She had often read about haunted mansions.

She pushed the covers away from her and got out of bed. It was still dark, and she couldn't see anything. She started to look for the lights, but they turned on automatically, although dimly. She made her way towards the door and was about to open it, when she heard a scream. Hermione froze, then doubled back, found her wand as a precaution, and said, "Protego," to shield herself from whatever might be there.

She opened the door slowly, but when it was fully open, there was no one there, and the corridor was dark. She stepped into the hallway, and the lights turned on. She looked down towards the stairs at the end of the hall, and she saw someone's silvery cloak disappear from view. She decided to follow.

More terrifying screams of anguish resounded, now much louder, through the house. As she turned to go down the stairs, she caught a glimpse of long, pale hair before the figure turned into a doorway. Hermione was about to descend the stairs, but a voice called out her name.

"Hermione!"

Hermione turned around, searching for the person who had addressed her. It was Malfoy.

"Hermione," he repeated. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard a noise in the corridor, so I went to investigate, and I saw someone go down the stairs."

Malfoy's face turned pale. He remembered that sometimes his father had nightmares from being in Azkaban, and would sleepwalk through the halls, screaming. How was he to explain this?

"Are you sure you weren't dreaming, Hermione?" he asked.

Hermione looked cross. "Of course, Malfoy." Her expression changed from annoyance to a thoughtful frown. "Of course, I didn't get a good look at whoever it was. They were very pale, and they had a silvery cloak, though."

Draco cursed inwardly. His father had a silver night robe.

Hermione looked at him curiously. "No one else lives here with you, do they?"

Draco replied with as much nonchalance as he could. "No, of course not. Why?"

"Could it have been a ghost?"

Draco could have kissed her for coming to that conclusion. He furrowed his brow, pretended to think about it, and looking as if he had just realized something, he said, "Maybe it was my mother."

Hermione gasped. "I remember now. I saw it in the paper. You killed her." Hermione paused. "That explains the screaming."

A forlorn look passed over Draco's face. This time, he wasn't acting. "Don't remind me."

A pang of sympathy pierced Hermione's heart. He looked genuinely sorry. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

Draco looked down at the floor. His breathing became irregular, and his chest started to heave. He sobbed silently, still standing in the hallway. Hermione touched her hand to his shoulder as a comforting gesture, and Draco surprised Hermione by leaning into her, and wrapping his arms around her tightly.

-------------------

**AN:** There you go. Fluff, at last. I'm sorry that everyone's been so weepy in this chapter.


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